


Lorinand Memoirs: The Bough Breaks

by AvaloyuruGeovaughni



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Canonical Character Rape, Canonical Child Abuse, Cunnilingus, F/M, Fellatio, M/M, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Physical Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-26
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-04-28 01:56:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 17
Words: 54,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14439006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvaloyuruGeovaughni/pseuds/AvaloyuruGeovaughni
Summary: This story begins in the year 1231 of the Second Age, Thranduil is only 486 years old.  For all of his young life, Prince Thranduil has been forced to endure the perverse sexual needs of his father King Oropher.  So possessive of him, Oropher is overcome with jealousy, inflicting sometimes brutal punishments if he even thinks Thranduil has been with anyone else.  After discovering an ongoing relationship between Thranduil and Aldalómë, the son of his Chief Advisor, Oropher sends him into exile in Lórinand as a ward of King Amdír.  It is there that the young prince grows into his own and forms friendships that will ultimately become future allies.





	1. Chapter 1

Frowning deeply, Thranduil walked nervously across his sitting room toward the entry door. Pressing his ear against the slight crack, he listened for any sounds from the sentinel guards in the antechamber separating his private chambers from those of his father. There were always two guards posted once the king had retired for the evening, a measure Thranduil found to be unnecessary. 

It seemed as though hours had passed since his father had checked on him, a recent routine that had become more than a little bothersome for the young prince. Questioning his father about it had only served to anger him while providing no answers. It was easier to simply pretend that he was already asleep to avoid further discussion of his fathers’ ideas about his responsibilities and duties to the crown. Particularly when those duties have recently included that he consider the prospect of taking a wife, which was the last thing on his mind. It wasn’t that he was directly opposed to the idea, he understood and accepted that it was required of him but there would be plenty of time for that later, he was still too young in his own opinion.

Thranduil felt his stomach twist into a painful knot at the sound of a door opening then close quietly, releasing a breath he had not realized he was holding as he heard Thalieth joking with the other sentinel. He allowed himself to relax somewhat as he waited a few more minutes before backing slowly away from the door.

Finally! His father had retired and he would have the rest of the evening for his own adventures. Smiling mischievously, he sprinted on tiptoe across his public sitting room toward the small door that opened into his private garden. Carefully turning the handle, he poked his head outside and glanced around in search of Aldalómës’ familiar figure. Spotting him as he stepped out from behind one of the tall plants and into the moonlight, his stomach fluttered nervously as the glow washed over his lover, illuminating his long golden tresses. Quickly pressing his forefinger to his lips, he warned him to be quiet as he approached. Clasping hands, the two moved quickly yet silently across the sitting room to his bed chamber.

“I thought something happened!” Aldalómë whispered, pulling him into a strong embrace, capturing his mouth in a deep searching kiss.

“Adar (Father) has retired for the evening.” Thranduil whispered more from breathlessness than the need to be quiet as he buried his face in his neck. “He never comes out of his rooms once he has posted the second guard.” He said quietly, enjoying the feel of his lovers’ arms around him.

“Are you sure you want to do this here?” Aldalómë asked, smoothing his hair as if he were quieting an upset child. “We can always meet in my rooms tomorrow.” He added reluctantly.

“I am not a child.” Thranduil answered without hesitation as he pulled back far enough to look up into his face, admiring the beauty of his chiseled features.

“I am well aware of that.” Aldalómë said quietly as he leaned down slightly, pressing his lips to the soft trembling ones of his love.

Opening his mouth to him, Thranduil swayed against his muscular frame, savoring the feel of his strong arms tightening around him. Aldalómë was his first real friend in those early days. He had been almost like a brother to him and had grown into a confidante who actually understood the arguments he had with his father. Although he had not seen battle, Aldalómë was strong and confident, with broad shoulders. His tall figure was easily recognizable on the training field with his long golden tresses flying as he faced off with numerous opponents, the sun glinting off his pale honey colored skin.

It had not yet been five hundred years since their arrival in Greenwood the Great. Their families having known each other in Lindon and had been among the Sindar that departed from the shores of the Gulf of Lhûn when Thranduil was only five years old. Aldalómë’s father had become his fathers’ chief advisor when he was accepted as King by the Silvan elves and had renamed the forest to the Woodland Realm. 

It was not long after that when things changed between them, his father began to visit him in the adjoining room that had served as a nursery. Thranduil didn’t like the things his father did to him, it hurt even though his father said he would get used to it. He was afraid of him and his threats, so he kept quiet about it, telling no one. He could not even tell Aldalómë until years later when he could no longer hide it and swore him to secrecy. He knew his father was more than suspicious of his friendship with Aldalómë and he became overly protective of him, to the point Thranduil felt smothered and trapped.

Over the years his father had grown bolder with his demands of him. Forcing him to remove his leggings and bend over his desk in his study so he could have his way with him. Sometimes he would be nice and sit him up on his desk using his mouth on his sex, Thranduil did not resist because it felt good until he realized his father had tricked him. His father told him he was now tainted because he enjoyed it and if anyone ever found out they would be banished from the kingdom and forced to live alone in exile.

Slowly as they spent more time together, Thranduil had begun to feel differently toward his friend when they would go on their brief excursions into the forest when his fathers’ special tutors had no more lessons for him. He loved the forest and had begged his father to permit him enlistment in the forest patrol yet his pleas had fallen on deaf ears. The king had only relented enough to grant his permission to allow him to train with them, elated beyond words Thranduil worked hard and excelled in the use of the bow. It was only when Aldalómë had been given the task to train him with the sword that things began to change between them. 

It had been nearly two weeks since they had managed to arrange the chance to be alone. Early on his father seemed to find more and more ways to keep him within his halls, contriving some task he must perform in the name of learning his duties as the heir to the throne. Forcing him to sit through hours of council meetings where he had no say, summoning him to his private study under the guise of seeking his opinions when Thranduil knew full well that in the end his father would find fault with his advice and stubbornly reject anything he offered. It was merely a game he played with him, just as he did with their heated debates on strategical positioning of border patrols, as if he enjoyed tormenting him with what he longed for yet could not have.

At first Aldalómë had seemed content to just hold him but then he started stealing kisses during their wrestling matches in their secret hiding place. Slowly, he began finding ways to touch him in ways that excited him, the arousal he felt causing him to cringe from him in fear. It wasn’t Aldalómë or the feelings he stirred within him that he feared, rather it was his father’s wrath. It was only after a particularly brutal whipping that Aldalómë had found him hiding in the safety of the cave, sobbing in pain that he finally revealed his secret. Seeking comfort in the arms of the older elf, Thranduil surrendered himself to him. In spite of the pain his father had inflicted upon him, Aldalómë had been such a gentle lover that night as he caressed and pleasured him beyond anything he had imagined.

“I am so afraid for you.” Aldalómë whispered, his arms tightening around the slender body as he leaned down, burying his face in his neck. “Yet I cannot resist you.”

“I can bear my fathers’ punishments if it means we can be together.” Thranduil whispered as he pulled away from him, slipping out of the sleeping tunic.

Aldalómë openly admired the body of the young prince as he quickly shed his own clothing, leaving them in a pile as he climbed into the bed with him. “You are so beautiful.” He breathed softly, slipping on top of him. “I could get lost in your eyes. I have never seen such a color, it’s like they are filled with sapphires and diamonds.”

Since the days of their long journey east, Aldalómë had appreciated the prettiness of the little elfling who would become his prince. The long tresses, so blonde they appeared as finely spun silver threads in the sunlight. The years had only added a slightly sculpted appearance to his once childish oval face, defining an exquisiteness that became his own unique beauty. Thranduil had a natural manner of speaking volumes with even the slightest change in his expression. The way he could barely lift one corner of his lips in a teasingly sensual gesture or suddenly appear childlike with a broad smile or a grin. Aldalómë found it frustrating that Thranduil didn’t even realize the power he wielded in those expressions, how he had tormented him with them over the long years he had desired him in silence.

Whatever response Thranduil would have given was swallowed as Aldalómë kissed him softly, teasing him. Clinging to him, his mind swirling with the overwhelming feelings, his body felt as if it were on fire. Every touch from Aldalómë sent delicious shivers through him. His breath caught in his throat as the kisses trailed lower, down his neck to his chest. 

Clenching his jaw to remain silent, Thranduil tangled his fingers in the softness of his lovers’ hair as he trailed his kisses downward over his taut stomach. His mouth opening in a silent gasp as he felt the warmth of Aldalómë’s lips close around the crown of his sex, his tongue swirled over the sensitive flesh, teasing the small slit with the tip of his tongue. It felt as if his entire body was about to explode as the hot mouth engulfed the length of him, his hips jerked forward as he drove himself deeper into the warmth.

Clamping his hand tightly over his mouth as Aldalómë used his larger body to hold him still, he could still hear the groans boiling in his throat as his lover buried his face against his lower belly. The flexing muscles of his throat as he suckled him firmly, massaging the crown brought him quickly to his release. Laying weakened and breathless beneath him, he slipped his arms around his slender waist as Aldalómë moved upward over him. The kiss was hungry as his lover captured his mouth, thrusting his tongue deeply, forcing him to taste himself as he feasted on his mouth.

“If I could I would keep you like this.” Aldalómë told him quietly as he released his mouth. “I would make love to you every night.” He added, brushing his lips with his own as he spoke.

“You promise?” Thranduil asked breathlessly, his arms tightening around him as the hungry mouth possessed his own once more.

“Roll over.” Aldalómë whispered, releasing his mouth as he reached for the broken slat in the headboard, collecting the small bottle of oil.

Trembling in anticipation, Thranduil felt the flutters in his stomach as he did as he was told. Hugging his pillow as Aldalómë pushed his thighs apart, his breath caught in his throat as he felt him pour the oil into the crack of his backside, gentle fingers slipped between the firm mounds in search of his entrance. A soft whimper escaped his lips as he felt him penetrate him, first with one finger, grasping the softness of the pillow as he felt the second finger enter him as he gently stretched the resisting muscle.

Stroking his own aching shaft, coating it with oil as he moved upward over him, Aldalómë positioned himself at his entrance. Teasing him at first as he rubbed the crown of his sex firmly over it before slowly pressing into the tight hot sheath. Wrapping his arms tightly around him, he just held him, kissing his cheek and whispering softly to him as he felt him struggling to relax against the intrusion.

“Okay.” Thranduil gasped as he hugged the pillow tighter, spreading his legs a little farther apart.

“Ahhh.” Aldalómë groaned in his ear as he rocked his hips against him, thrusting deeply within the warmth of his tight flexing muscles. 

“Get out!” Oropher roared as he stormed into his sons’ bed chamber. “Get out now!” He bellowed as he strode purposefully across the room.

“Adar! Please!” Thranduil screamed as Aldalómë scrambled quickly out of the bed, not even stopping to gather his clothing before disappearing from the room.

“You think I did not know the goings on under my own roof!” Oropher thundered angrily as he descended on the cringing form of his son. “Now I find the truth! You are nothing but a pirá zan kurv!” (Little elf whore) He spat as he grabbed Thranduil’s wrist, callously yanking him from the bed with such force he stumbled hard into the oaken wardrobe.

“Adar! Please!” Thranduil repeated his plea, tears streaking his cheeks as fear and the pain of his fathers’ grasp on his wrist overtook him. 

“Cover yourself, pirá zan kurv!” (Little elf whore) Oropher ordered as he reached down to collect the sleeping tunic. “Do not make me wait.” He stated, throwing it at his son before storming out of the bed chamber.

Trembling to his very core, Thranduil quickly pulled the sleeping tunic over his head, adjusting it as he hurried toward the sitting room. Swallowing back the threat of more tears, he wiped his face on the sleeve in preparation to meet his father. There had been numerous verbal arguments between them in recent years as he began to push back against his fathers’ suffocating control, conflicts that had changed much between them. The punishments administered by his father grew even more severe yet the marks of his anger where always hidden and he dared not seek out the aid of the healers lest he suffer additional punishment.

Entering the sitting room, he saw his father leaning on the mantel of the hearth, his large hands grasping the oaken mantel piece as he stared into the few flames that still flickered on the logs. Even in the dim light he could not only see but feel the rage now etched in his handsome face that now looked more like a polished marble statue. His wrist throbbed horribly where his father had twisted it, as did his face and shoulder where he had been flung into the wardrobe, yet he dare not show any sign of the pain. Struggling to gain control of himself, he stood there in silence, feeling small and insignificant as he waited for his father to speak. The expression when he turned to face him was hard and cold, Thranduil felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him.

“Long now have you continued to defy me.” Oropher stated, his voice trembled slightly as he struggled to control his anger. “I will no longer tolerate your insolence Thranduil.” He told him, his pale gray blue eyes narrowing as he approached him.

“How do I defy you Adar? (Father) When do I not do what you ask of me?” Thranduil asked, his voice almost choked. He was terrified yet he refused to back down from his fathers’ cold stare.

“How dare you?!!” Oropher growled angrily as he approached his son. “You belong to me!” He hissed through clenched teeth as he walked around the trembling form of his son. “How dare you let someone else touch you?!” He snapped, quickly grabbing a handful of Thranduil’s hair at the nape of him neck before he could duck away from him.

“No! Adar (Father), please...” Thranduil cried out, his plea cut off as his fathers’ mouth clamped down hard onto his own. Struggling to breathe, he shoved against his fathers’ chest as he felt his tongue ravishing his mouth. “I hate you! I hate you!” His mind screamed as his father pushed him against the wall, his cruel fingers roughly fondling his sex through the silk of the sleeping tunic.

“I hate you!” Thranduil screamed at him as soon as his father pulled away from him. Breathing in gasps, he glared angrily at him as he continued to hold him pinioned to the wall. Tears burned at the backs of his eyes but he refused to give him the pleasure of seeing them fall.

It had been months since his father had come to his rooms to slake his needs with his unwilling body, he had prayed that he had finally tired of him. Even the whippings had lessened over the past months, dwindling to only those times when he dared argue with him after one of their so called meetings in his fathers’ study.

“Get over here.” Oropher growled as he grabbed his wrist, twisting his arm roughly behind his back. Using his grip on the handful of his sons’ hair to guide him toward the settee in front of the hearth. “You keep fighting me and I will beat you until you cannot walk!” He stated angrily as he bent him over the back of it, hiking up the back of the sleeping tunic.

“You will anyway!” Thranduil hissed as he continued to struggle against the heavier weight that now pinioned him down. Closing his eyes against the threat of tears as he felt him fumbling with the lacings of his leggings, Thranduil swallowed against the tears that burned the backs of his eyes. A strangled whimper escaped his lips as he felt the hard length of his father enter him. There was no love, no gentleness like it was with Aldalómë, only the relentless thrusts of one who sought to own him.

“You will not see him again.” Oropher stated, releasing him as he adjusted his leggings, retying them as he turned away from him.

“I will see him again!” Thranduil exclaimed as he pushed himself away from the settee to face his father. “You cannot stop me!” 

It was only Thranduil’s strangled cry that snapped him out of his rage as Oropher reacted without thinking and struck his son with such force he watched in horror as his body fell back, landing in a crumpled heap on the floor. Stunned at what he had done, he stood there silently and stared at his son. His hair tossed wildly about his head, face and shoulders from the force of the blow, a single trail of blood trickled between his fingers as he held his face. The wide-eyed look of fear like a caged animal cut into him like a knife. There was a part of him that wanted to pick him up and hold him, to take away the pain and the fear, yet the other part in him was stronger and he would not show weakness. 

Thranduil had heard his own scream and felt it ripped from his throat, yet it had sounded as if it came from someone else. So unexpected, he had not even seen it and was not prepared for the attack much less the force of the blow. His mind spinning, he tasted blood in his mouth and felt it in his hand as tears blurred his vision but again he refused to allow them to fall. As severe as his punishments were, never had his father lashed out at him in such an uncontrolled rage.

Closing his eyes as his father turned away from him without a word, Thranduil felt his stomach twist into painful knots. Crumbling completely to the floor as his father closed the door behind him, he finally allowed his tears flow and wept silently as the pain matched only by the feeling of emptiness overwhelmed him until he felt sickened.


	2. Chapter 2

Instinctively Thranduil flinched and moved away from the gentle hand that touched his shoulder. Blinking back the tears that still filled his eyes, he stared at his fathers’ personal servant Galion. Even as his tears blurred his vision he could see the concern shining from his soft moss green eyes. 

“Go away. Leave me be.” He choked out the words, he would take pity from no one. Turning away from him, he closed his eyes against the pain in his neck from where his head had twisted violently from the blow. He could feel the blood still trickling freely from his nose, his lower lip, shoulder and wrist throbbed painfully.

“I am not going anywhere.” Galion spoke softly as he sat down beside him, pulling him into his arms. “We can just sit right here on the floor if that’s what you wish.” He told him, hugging him tightly, paying no heed to the blood as he gently pressed Thranduil’s head onto his shoulder.

Wrapped in his comforting arms, Thranduil could not hold back and let the tears flow, sobbing without restraint he clung to him. Curling closer to him there on the floor, he sought the comfort he could always find in the arms of the gentle servant that had always been there for him. His heart ached for the mother he could not remember. Even the image of her face had faded beyond his ability to recall, it had been so long ago and he was so young when they traveled here. 

“Sorry.” Thranduil apologized, finally pulling back from him, his eyes were hot and swollen, his voice thick from his tears. “I am making a mess of your robes.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Galion said softly, placing a fatherly kiss on his forehead as he smoothed his hair, tucking the loose tendrils behind his ears. “Now let me look at you.” He said softly as he gently lifted the young princes’ chin so he could examine the swollen eyes, the bloodied lip and nose. “Well, you are going to be somewhat of a mess for a bit but I do not think it is permanent.”

“I must look a fright.” Thranduil managed quietly, trying to smile but it hurt more than he would admit even to himself.

“You are still beautiful to me.” Galion chuckled, very much aware of the young princes’ vanity. “Come, let’s get you cleaned up a bit so I can take a better look at you.”

Nodding as they helped each other to their feet, Thranduil stopped him, pausing to study his face for long moments. There was a time when he loved his father dearly and deep inside he wanted desperately to understand what he had done to make his father hate him so much. Looking into the concerned face of the servant, he was hit with a flood of memories of the many times as an elfling it had been into Galions’ arms he had run when he needed comfort, not his father. It was Galion who always came to him when he was sick or injured, and now after an argument with his father to check on him and make sure he was alright.

“Thank you, for everything.” Thranduil told him quietly, smiling in spite of the pain.

Galion only smiled at him as he slipped his arm around the young princes’ waist, guiding him into the bed chamber. It was with great difficulty that he managed to compose himself after finding him on the floor in such a state. Anger burned hotly in his gut toward the king for what he had done, it was inexcusable.

“Put this on.” He told him as he picked up Thranduils’ robe from the settee at the foot of the bed and laid it on the bed near him. “Come in when you’re ready.” He added as he turned toward the bathing chamber.

Waiting until after Galion had disappeared, Thranduil stripped off the sleeping tunic. Quickly using it to clean himself as best he could, he tossed it into the flames of the hearth and grabbed the robe he had laid over the bed for him. Pulling it on, he watched as the tunic caught in the flames, tying the robe closed, he turned toward the bathing chamber. 

Turning up the small lamp on the table just inside the door, Galion carried it toward the carved basin in the far wall. Pulling a small wooden chair closer, he lifted the small lever to fill the basin. There was a constant supply of heated water from the large copper vats in the kitchen that flowed through a series of copper tubes into both Oropher’s and Thranduil’s private bathing chambers. Smiling softly, he patted the seat of the chair as the young prince entered the room.

Wetting a soft cloth, he turned toward him and began the task of gently washing away the now mostly dried blood from his face. His thoughts were dark and angry as he tended his injuries. For so many years he had watched this child try so hard to please his father, almost begging for his attentions and getting little to nothing in return. He had witnessed the joy that shone from his eyes each time his father told he had done well, it was the crestfallen expression that followed when he was told he could have done better that tore at Galion. Not since the early days of their arrival had he seen the King actually embrace his son or shown him any form of affection.

Galion, unlike most of the Silvan elves cared little for Oropher himself, most were unaware of just how cruel he was with his only child. If it were not for his personal experiences with other Sindar, he would have believed that Oropher’s strong hand in dealing with his son was their way. Deep inside, Galion sensed there was another much darker reason.

Watching him from behind the veil of his thick lashes, Thranduil wondered at the darkening of the normally soft moss green eyes. He was gentle as he washed away the signs of the latest confrontation with his father, as if he was afraid to cause him any discomfort. He thought about those early years when he was little, struggling to keep up with the older, bigger children of the other Sindar nobles who had traveled here with them. Had it not been for Aldalómë he would more than likely suffered far more injuries than he actually did. He was such a rambunctious one as Galion used to call him in those days, always trying to do what the bigger children were doing, which all too often resulted in injuries, some of which had put him in the healing rooms, under the care of the healers. Nonetheless, it was always Galion not his father who came to him and took care of him.

For the first time Thranduil found himself looking at him as something far more than a servant. He was different than the majority of the Silvan elves, his skin was a pale olive tone, his features held a balance of both beauty and masculinity with his slightly squared jawline, framed in long dark auburn hair. He was only slightly shorter than himself, making him taller than most of the Silvan elves. He had a slender build, yet Thranduil knew from experience that his appearance was deceiving, beneath the flowing robes he preferred, he was strong with well-toned muscles.

“Now.” Galion stated as he lifted the prince’s chin once more, turning his face toward the brighter glow of the lamp. “Let me see what we have.”

Thranduil sat silently, still watching him as Galion examined his injuries. There was a strange play of emotions that ran through the now very dark green eyes as gentle fingers touched his cheek and felt along the bridge of his nose.

“Well.” Galion finally spoke. “Nothing seems to be broken thankfully. But you are going be very sore for a while.”

“I am very sore now.” Thranduil reluctantly admitted as he rose to examine himself in the silvered glass on the wall, horrified at what he saw.

“It is late.” Galion sighed heavily yet managed a smile. “Let’s get you in bed, you need to rest now.”

“I need a few moments to myself.” Thranduil said quietly, glancing at the servant before quickly dropping his gaze to the floor as he nervously fidgeted with the end of the tie of his robe.

“Take whatever time you need.” Galion told him, smiling warmly at him as he reached over and patted his shoulder comfortingly. “I will be right outside.”

Nodding, Thranduil watched in silence as he walked back into his bed chamber. In his heart he wanted to run after him, throw himself in the servants’ comforting arms and tell him everything. It didn’t matter what it was, Galion was always able to make it better, make things right again. Yet in his mind he knew there was nothing anyone could do to help him, this was his burden to bare alone.

Turning toward the sink, he picked up one of the washing cloths’ from the small basket, wetting it beneath the flow of warm water. Loosening the tie to his robe, he let it fall open as he reached between his legs, gingerly drawing the cloth along the crevice of his backside. Gulping against the threat of more tears, he grimaced painfully as he washed away the evidence of his fathers’ use of him. He felt the sting of those tears at the backs of his eyes as he looked down at the flecks of blood on the cloth as he carefully rinsed it away to hide his shame. 

Tying his robe closed as he walked back toward his bed chamber, he schooled his expression before entering. He froze in his footsteps as he saw Galion adding another log on the grate in the hearth, not sure if they had been in the bathing chamber long enough for the bloodied sleeping tunic to have completely burned away.

“The fire is fine Galion.” He said quietly, his stomach turning in knots as he tried to smile. “It is already spring, I will be fine.”

“I know.” Galion replied, smiling warmly as he continued to tend to the fire. “I have put out a clean sleeping tunic for you on the bed.” He continued quietly without looking at him, quite accustomed to the measures the prince often took to hide his nakedness from anyone.

“Thank you.” Thranduil whispered, not trusting his voice. Turning away from him, he quickly shed to robe and slipped into the knee length sleeping tunic before climbing into the huge bed. It seemed as though every part of him hurt as he lay back against the soft pillows.

“You need to try to get some sleep pen neth nîn.” (My young one). Galion said quietly, turning toward the bed, noting the stiff movements as the young prince struggled to get comfortable. “I can bring you something to help you.” He added as he pulled the covers up over him, tucking him in as he had done so many times when he was just a little elfling.

“No.” Thranduil sighed, a shaking smile curling his lips as he looked up at him. Again he felt himself almost overwhelmed with the need for the comfort of servants’ presence but he knew he could not stay with him.

“Alright.” Galion sighed as he gently smoothed his finger over the princes’ cheek. “I will see you in the morning.” He added as he leaned down, placing a fatherly kiss on his forehead before quickly departing.

Turning onto his side, Thranduil felt hot tears threaten as the image of his fathers’ angry face loomed before his minds’ eye. He had seen the rage in his eyes while his expression remained indifferent, devoid of any compassion for the pain he had just inflicted up on him. Pulling the covers tighter around him, he felt so empty and so very alone. The tears leaked out from the corners of his eyes as he thought of Aldalómë, knowing he would never be allowed to see him again much less be alone with him, his father would see to that. His whole body trembled with fear as he knew his father would come to him again tomorrow, he would use his body then he would punish him with the strap.

All of his life his father had limited his association with others, at first it seemed that he was just being overly protective of him. So many times he wanted to tell someone but he was afraid, his father was the king, who would believe him. There were no servants in the private chambers they shared in those early days, no one to stop him from touching him. At first he used only his fingers back there and would spank him if he cried because it hurt. It was not until shortly before the marking of his fiftieth year that he fully realized the truth. That was the first time his father laid on top of him and took him as an ellyn (male elf) would take an elleth (elf maiden). It only got worse over time as his father constantly found reasons to discipline him. Always with the leather strap the hung in plain sight on a hook on one of the tall posts of the huge four poster bed they shared until he reached the age of adulthood and was granted his own rooms. 

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Aldalómë ignored the soft knock on the door of his personal chambers, a tightness gripping his gut as it persisted. Laying on his bed, he continued to stare at the ceiling, willing whoever it was to just go away and leave him in peace.

“Aldalómë, open this door right now.” Lord Garävegión insisted, knocking slightly harder.

He groaned silently as he reluctantly pushed himself up off the bed. “Adar.” (Father) He greeted him quietly as he opened the door and stepped away from it.

“Are you alright?” Lord Garävegión asked as he closed the door behind him and locked it before turning toward him, he watched his son walk away from him to stand at the small window.

“I have never seen anyone that angry.” Aldalómë said, running his fingers nervously through his hair. “I heard Thranduil scream.” His voice choked as he turned to face his father, tears silently slipping down his cheeks.

“Anÿë ion nîn.” (Oh my son) Lord Garävegión groaned from the pain in his own heart as he quickly cleared the distance between them. “Did I not warn you?!” He told him as he hugged him tightly.

“But I love him so much!” Aldalómë choked past the lump in his throat.

“Do not confuse desire for love Gérion.” (Little one*) Lord Garävegión told him, smoothing his hair as he tried to comfort his son. “Yes, Thranduil is very beautiful, he has turned many heads, elleth (elf maiden) and ellyn (male elf) alike but Oropher has made it very clear that he is to marry only a Sindar, an elleth (elf maiden) of noble birth. You have always known this.”

“It is not right!” Aldalómë cried, pushing himself away from his father. “Why?! Why must it be this way?!” He demanded, swinging around to face him.

“Aldalómë.” Lord Garävegión sighed heavily. “He is Oropher’s only heir. It is his duty to marry and bring forth an heir to the throne. Surely you understand this.”

“I do understand that Adar!” (Father) Aldalómë cried, his expression twisting in anguish. “But…”

“There is no but Aldalómë!” Lord Garävegión stated firmly as he approached him, grasping his shoulders to force him to look at him. “I tried to warn you but you would not listen. Oropher does not approve of an ellyn (male elf) to lay with another ellyn, (male elf) especially when it comes to his son, this I have told you! What you want cannot be, do you not understand this?!” He pleaded with his son to accept what cannot be changed, yet hating the dark truth he could not reveal.

“So what happens now?” Aldalómë asked, fresh tears filling his eyes, spilling down his cheeks as he searched his fathers’ face for answers he knew he would not find. “How do I look at him every day and know I can never touch him again?”

“That has been taken out our hands I am afraid.” Lord Garävegión sighed, wiping the tears from his son’s cheeks as he struggled with just how much to tell him. “Thranduil has been confined to his chambers until Oropher receives word back from King Amdír of Lórinand. As soon as his wounds heal, he will be sent there to meet his prospective wife.”

“Anÿë Eru! (Oh God) What have I done?!” Aldalómë sobbed openly now as he turned away from his father.

“No Aldalómë! You have done nothing!” Lord Garävegión exclaimed angrily. “The decision was made weeks ago. The king is concerned with the growing troubles that are slowly reaching our borders. If we must go to battle, you know that both Oropher and Thranduil will go as he will not leave his father’s side regardless of their troubles. Thranduil will do his duty as will you.”

“You will prepare to depart to the foothills of the Emyn-nu-Orod.” (Mirkwood Mountains) Lord Garävegión began when his son only stared at him. “You, Glaurhalbër, Macilvoronhûr, and Eluandúnië will report to me in the morning.”

“Adar!?” (Father) Aldalómë exclaimed angrily. “Why…”

“Do not question me further Aldalómë!” Lord Garävegión stated, growing angry with his son. “It is out of my hands. What is done, is done, now we must deal with the consequences.” He told him firmly.

“How long will we be gone?” Aldalómë asked as he turned away from his father, knowing he had spoken the truth from the pained expression on his face.

“I do not know. It is up to the king.” Lord Garävegión said quietly. “Get some rest if you can.” He added, then turned to leave his son with his own thoughts, well aware of the fact that there was nothing he could do that would bring him peace tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments are always welcome!


	3. Chapter 3

Struggling to shake himself of the heaviness of his sleep, Thranduil could hear the angry voices in the other room, they sounded muffled and distant. He wanted to move but the pain that had wracked his body was far worse than it did the previous night. Slowly as the fog of sleep lifted from him he was able to recognize the voices as those of his father and the servant Galion.

“I will not go against Garävegión and will leave Aldalómë to him.” Oropher stated, the anger in his tone was unmistakable. “As for my son, my mind is made up. The arrangements have been made. Once he has healed he will travel to Lórinand where he will remain as a charge of King Amdír until such time as I decide he will be allowed to return.”

“Cerithon i iest, gîn Heruamin.” (As you wish, my Lord-Formal) Galion stated, no longer caring that his own anger had risen to match that of the king. “He will not go alone, do not stand in my way. Húriön will serve you as adequately as I.”  
“You would dare defy me?” Oropher hissed at him.

“I remind you gîn Heruamin.” (My Lord-Formal) Galion spit out the last word as if it left a foul taste in his mouth. “We serve out of choice, we are not your servants. I will go where I please.”

Thranduil stiffened, unable to believe what he had just heard. Not only was his father willing to send him away, he would send him to live alone amongst strangers. Until he decided he could return? How long would he leave him there? He needed permission to return home? What was to happen to Aldalómë? Why was Galion defying his father? So many questions circled through his mind as he struggled to sit up, he needed to go talk to his father. A loud whimper escaped his lips as a horrible pain shot through his head and neck causing him to fall back onto the pillows

“Do not try to get up.” Galion stated anxiously as he quickly reached the side of the bed.

Tears stung the back of his eyes as he held them tightly shut. Thranduil heard the sound of the door to his chambers slam shut, marking not only his fathers’ exit but signaling that he was still angry enough with him that he wanted nothing to do with him.

“So.” Thranduil said quietly, although he didn’t open his eyes. “I am to be exiled for my sins.”

“What are you talking about?” Galion asked more harshly than he had intended as he adjusted the blankets back over him. “Thranduil?” He insisted, sitting on the edge of the bed when the young prince turned his face away from him. “What sins have you committed?” He asked as he gently took his face in his hands, forcing him to look at him.

“Anÿë Gérion.” (Oh Little One) He said softly, his heart aching as he watched the tears slip silently from the corners of the young prince’s eyes. “You have committed no sin.” He told him, leaning forward to kiss his forehead. “Rest, I will be right back.”

Nodding, Thranduil rolled onto his side and hugged his pillow. Staring into the flames that flickered across the logs in the hearth at the foot of his bed, he tried to think of nothing. Yet there were so many questions that still chased themselves around in his thoughts. He knew nothing about this place Lórinand or this King Amdír his father spoke of, but it obviously didn’t matter. Wanting nothing more at that moment than to be alone, he closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep when he heard Galion return.

“You need to sit up for bit and drink this.” Galion said softly as he gently patted his shoulder.

“I do not want to.” Thranduil whispered, refusing to open his eyes or even move.

“You sit up and you drink this.” Galion said sternly. “It will help with the pain and the swelling.”

Frowning slightly Thranduil offered no resistance as Galion pulled the pillows together to give him more support. The brew had obviously been sweetened liberally with honey, still it left an odd taste in his mouth that he wasn’t sure whether he liked it or not. Thankfully the cup was only half filled as it was clear that Galion was not leaving until he had drank all of it.

“I will leave this here for you to apply as you need.” Galion stated as he retrieved a small tin from a pocket in his robes. “You do not need much.” He continued as he opened it and dipped his finger into the yellowish salve. “It is beeswax with herbs that will aid in the healing.” He told him as he gently applied a thin coat of it to the prince’s swollen lower lip.

“Now you need to rest.” He told him as he took the cup from him and set it beside the tin on the stand.

“I am not sleepy.” Thranduil stated, frowning slightly at him as Galion attempted to lay him back down in the bed.

“You will be.” Galion thought quietly to himself as he gently guided him down into the bed, pulling the covers back over him. “You do not need to be up and about right now. You need to rest in order to heal.” He told him as he leaned down, placing a fatherly kiss on his forehead. “I will check on you later.” He added, smoothing his hair with a gentle hand before collecting the cup and quickly departing.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Sensing a presence in the room Thranduil slowly opened his eyes and glanced around. A slight frown creased his brow as he noticed the fire in the hearth burned much brighter than earlier, as if someone had added more logs. He didn’t remember going to sleep as he laid there staring into the hearth after Galion had left him. He could smell the delicious aroma of cinnamon and honey, causing his stomach to growl angrily.

“Finally.” Galion chuckled softly from a chair in the far corner of the room.

“How long have I been asleep?” He asked, struggling himself into a sitting position as Galion walked toward him. The pain in his face and long the right side of his body was still quite evident but not so much that he couldn’t handle it.

“Since yesterday morning. It’s still early evening.” Galion replied as he adjusted the pillows behind him to give him support. “You needed the rest, so I let you sleep.” He said as he sat on the edge of the bed beside him. “I’m happy to see that you seem to be feeling better.”

“Have you been here the whole time?” Thranduil asked, staring at him in disbelief.

“I did leave a few times to get some things I needed for you.” He replied quietly. “I needed to make arrangements for Húriön to take over my duties to the king. You are my only concern now.”

“Why?” Thranduil asked quietly. It was more of a statement than a question as he narrowed his eyes at him, not in anger but concern. He was learning firsthand the consequences of defying the king. 

“Can we not speak of this now?” Galion beseeched him, clasping the princes’ hand tightly as he smiled at him.

“I would really like to know.” Thranduil pressed him, squeezing his hand as if to reassure him of something.

“Very well.” Galion sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping slightly. “I do not wish to speak ill of him, but for all your father speaks of responsibilities, duties, and honor there are other things that make a good king into a great king. Yet you will not learn these things from history books or from your father.” He stated, absently rubbing the back of Thranduils’ hand. “Your father is seen as a good king by many, yet he fails to understand that it is only by the will of those who serve that a king rules.”

Long moments stretched out between them as Galion watched the interesting play of thoughts and emotions flicker through those beautiful sapphire eyes. Thranduil was very much like his father in terms of being strong willed, yet Galion had seen early in his life that he was more of a thinker and unlike Oropher, he was not quick in his decisions or actions and could be reasoned with. While he may never ascend to the throne, as his son, Thranduil could one day hold the power to influence his father in later years.

“I think I want something to eat now.” Thranduil stated, a slight smile curling his lips as he squeezed his hand again. “If I am not mistaken, I smell cinnamon and honey.” He added, his eyes sparkling a little brighter.

“Do you want me to bring it to you or would you prefer to eat at the table?” Galion asked, arching a brow at him. It was an expression he recognized from the past when he would accuse him of being lazy. 

“Fine.” He laughed softly as he shook his head. “Hand me my robe please.”

Although he rarely had visitors, the sitting room served as the public room within his private chambers which meant there were more lamps. Squinting slightly as he emerged from the darker more subdued lighting of his bed chamber, he glanced around. Not really sure why he did so as he did not really expect to see anyone.

“I tried to keep them warm for you in case you were ready to eat when you woke up.” Galion said as he hurried toward the hearth where he left the honeyed cinnamon rolls. “Alythiyiá made them fresh especially for you to have with your evening meal.”

“No.” He added quietly, shaking his head as he saw Thranduil’s eyes widen. “I only told her that you were hungry for them.” He added, smiling as the look of relief spread over the princes’ face.

Thranduil shook his head slightly, listening to his chatter as he followed him to the small table in the far corner of the room. He was admittedly more than a little uncomfortable with everything as he was not used to having anyone fussing over him, since that was a luxury reserved only for his father. He found it rather amusing that Galion could go from one topic to another without so much as stopping for a breath, all while he set out the small plates and began filling them with cheese, berries, nuts, and other fruits.

“The tea may taste a bit different, it has Qûercëntián mixed with the cinnamon to help the swelling.” Galion told him as he poured him a cup. “Unfortunately only time will heal your bruises.” He frowned deeply, the better lighting only seemed to intensify the large dark purple marks on his face and wrist.

“I will be fine Galion.” He told him as he accepted the cup from him. “Really, now sit down.” He smiled warmly at him.

Much more accustomed to taking his meals in the crowded dining hall, Thranduil found that he actually enjoyed the more private dining, even with Galions’ constant chatter. Chewing was difficult, aggravating the pain in his cheek and jaw so he chose to avoid the nuts, deciding to fill up on the softer fruits, cheese and of course the honeyed cinnamon rolls.

“We need to talk.” Galion said quietly as Thranduil settled into one of the comfortable chairs in front of the larger hearth in the sitting room after finishing their meal. “I know what has been going on between you and Aldalómë.” He added, pulling the padded foot bench closer to the prince.

Unconsciously pulling on a stoical expression as if it were a mask, Thranduil only stared at him as he felt his body run hot then cold in spite of the heat from the nearby hearth. Somehow it did not surprise him that Galion knew, he had an uncanny way of knowing about everything that went on within his fathers’ halls.

“What is there to talk about?” He asked, his tone was quiet and empty as he searched those soft green eyes. “I have sinned and deserve whatever punishments my father chooses.”

“Anÿë, pen neth nîn.” (Oh, my young one) Galion said softly, smiling as he took his hands in his own. “You have much to learn about life.” He continued, meeting the searching gaze evenly. Thranduil had long ago become quite adept at concealing his thoughts and feelings behind a cold mask. However, Galion knew him better than the prince could have imagined, having learned how to read the subtle signs that he could not control in the depths of his eyes.

“You deserve no such thing.” He told him, shaking his head. “You are grown now and do not come to me the way you once did. I have never interfered between a father and a son, yet in this I cannot remain silent.” He paused for a moment, squeezing his hands slightly as he felt them tremble. “There is no sin in your desires or what you have done.”

“My father.” Thranduil began, stopping as his voice cracked slightly. “Why?” He asked after long moments of silence between them.

“I cannot explain your father’s thoughts or reasoning any more than I can explain anyone else’s.” Galion sighed heavily. “But he is not alone in his feelings about this and you must learn to take care if this is the path that is set for you.”

“What do you mean the path set for me?” He asked, a slight frown furrowing his brow as he stared intently at the one who was becoming less a servant and more his friend in his eyes.

“Well.” Galion sighed uncomfortably, not quite sure how to explain it. “It is not as if things are preordained. Every living thing in Arda (the world) has a fäë (soul) but when Eru (God) made us, he gave us the ability to think and to reason through logic and feelings, each of us see things differently as we all experience different things that influence those abilities. More importantly is that he gave us the right of free will, only we know what is right for ourselves. No one else can tell you what is right or wrong for you, only you.”

Smiling to himself, Galion watched him as the young prince narrowed his eyes and appeared to study him in return. He watched as the spray of diamond like flecks slowly disappeared and the unique silver gray ring surrounding the beautiful sapphire irises begin to thicken and spill out like storm clouds against an azure sky. This was the part of him that he could not hide from the servant. Where some wore their emotions on their sleeves, Thranduil hid his within the depths of eyes and Galion could see the anger begin to fester within them.

“Don’t think on it too long.” Galion said quietly, smiling as he patted Thranduils’ knee lightly. “You still need your rest. I will see you in the morning.” He told him as he pushed himself up from the foot bench.

“Good night Galion.” Thranduil said, a slight smile lighting his face as he looked up at him, meeting his concerned gaze for a brief moment before turning toward the hearth.

“Oh dear.” He sighed to himself as he turned away from the young prince, patting his shoulder encouragingly before turning toward the door. “This simply cannot continue.” He told himself as he exited the princes’ chambers, nodding politely to the guard outside the door.

Whether he could do anything about it he could not say, yet there was one person he felt he could talk to about his concerns. The hour was not so late, Lord Garävegión should still be awake, even possibly still working in his study. With a renewed sense of purpose, Galion made his way quickly toward the lords’ chambers.

“Galion!?” Kérÿth exclaimed in a slightly hushed tone as he opened the door. “What brings you here at this hour?” He asked as he ushered him quickly inside, closing the door behind them.

“I have a matter that I would like to discuss with Lord Garävegión if he is available.” Galion stated quietly, resisting the urge to wring his hands as his nervousness began to twist tightly in his stomach.

“Certainly, one moment.” Kérÿth replied as he gestured invitingly toward the sitting room. “I will see if he is available.”

“It is a private personal matter.” Galion interjected quickly, his smile trembled slightly as Kérÿth paused for a moment to stare at him.  
“Of course.” He said quietly. “I will return in a moment, he is in his study.”

“Oh Eru, (God) I hope I am doing the right thing.” Galion sent up a silent prayer as he walked toward the large hearth to wait for the servant to return. The young prince was such a private and sensitive one, it would be devastating to him should he discover that his secret was revealed.

“He will see you now.” Kérÿth informed him quietly as he entered the public sitting room.

“Thank you Kérÿth.” Galion sighed heavily, managing a slight smile as he followed him down the short hallway.

“Galion.” Lord Garävegión greeted him with a broad smile as he rose from behind his desk, his long stride quickly clearing the distance between them. “Please, come in.” He stated, waving toward two comfortable chairs before a much smaller hearth as he closed the door.

“Kérÿth tells me this is a personal matter?” Lord Garävegión asked quietly, a slight frown furrowing his brow as he lowered his tall frame into one of the chairs. “I am curious as to why you would seek my guidance in such things?” He added as he watched the servant intently, the stress was clearly evident on his normally content and happy face.

“Well.” Galion began, swallowing against the lump in his throat as he sat rigidly in the chair. “It is not so much my personal matter as it concerns the prince.” He said quickly, meeting the concerned gaze of the lords’ piercing gray blue eyes.

Closing his eyes for a moment, Lord Garävegión forced himself to relax as the anger from his argument with King Oropher earlier that day threatened to overcome him again. Judging from the overly stressed and tense demeanor of the servant, he knew his earlier suspicions were more than likely correct.

“Is the prince alright?” He asked, leaning slightly forward.

“No, he is not alright.” Galion blurted as tears stung the backs of his eyes. “I should have known! I should have seen it!” He exclaimed, blinking as the tears slipped down his cheeks.

“Known what?” Lord Garävegión asked, nearly jumping out of the chair in his need to comfort the clearly distraught servant.

“Oropher...” Galion stammered, pausing to swallow again and quickly wipe his cheeks. “I know he has...” His throat constricted as more tears threatened. “I cannot believe a father would do such things to their own child!” He exclaimed, his anger now filling him as the lord knelt before him, grasping his hands comfortingly.

“What things Galion?” Lord Garävegión pressed him, squeezing his hands as he leaned closer to him.

“A few turnings (years) ago the whippings seemed to be getting worse...”

“What are you talking about?!” Lord Garävegión demanded, the color draining from his face as he stared at the servant.

“I believe he has been beating that child for his entire young life!” Galion nearly shrieked as he clutched the lords’ hands, his eyes widening. “He has never allowed anyone to attend to him but I snuck in there many times at night when I could tell something was wrong with the prince. The marks he left on him...” Cut off by his tears, Galion fell into the arms of the lord and sobbed openly.

“It is not your fault Galion.” Lord Garävegión told him firmly as he held him tightly, trying to calm him.

“That is not the worst of it.” Galion choked out as he pushed himself free of the comforting embrace.

“I had a feeling.” He began, swallowing again, his gaze imploring the lord to understand that he did not know. “One night after the prince said he had been injured in a fall I gave him a sleeping tea. When he was asleep I checked him...” His voice broke off as fresh tears streamed down his cheeks unheeded.

“Please, I cannot prove how it happened but, back there in his private area.” He paused, closing his eyes against the anger he saw rising in the darkening eyes of the lord. “It was swollen and did not look right.”

“It is not your fault.” Lord Garävegión insisted firmly as he pulled the sobbing servant into his arms once more, holding him tightly.

Trembling from his rage, Lord Garävegión now realized that Lady Laurefindë had been right in what she had suspected was going on behind the closed doors of the royal chambers. There were those who simply thought Oropher was being overly protective of Thranduil as he was his only child. Yet there seemed to be something wrong with the way he restricted his activities with others to the point where only a few of those his own age would even approach the prince much less befriend him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments are always welcome!


	4. Chapter 4

Slowly as the days passed Thranduil became more resolved in the differences he had with his father. Now that he was confined to his chambers, time was an abundant commodity, he had much time to think about things. He found a kinship of sorts with Galion, learning everything he could from him about the unrecorded history of the Silvan Elves and the Woodland Realm. Unaware that his own thoughts had begun to mirror those of Galion, he had no plans or even the desire to ascend to the throne yet he believed he could influence his father through a better understanding of the elves they ruled.

Evening had settled, once again finding them sitting quietly in front of the hearth after they finished their meal, each one appeared lost in his own thoughts. Galion observed him on the fringes of his vision, noting the prince’s injuries had healed well. There was no outward sign of what had happened between him and his father, yet he knew the truly painful scars ran deeply within the young prince. There were things he sensed but would not press him, hoping that he would tell him when he felt more comfortable with his own feelings about whatever it was.

“Is there anything I can get for you before I retire for the evening?” Galion asked as he rose from the chair and walked toward him. 

“Thranduil?” He asked, frowning as he grasped his shoulder when the prince continued to stare silently at the flames.

“Do you really need to go?” Thranduil asked quietly, reaching up to cover Galions’ hand with his own as he turned slowly to look up at him.

“Not if you don’t want me to.” He told him quietly, smiling softly as he squeezed his shoulder. 

A torrent of emotions washed over him as he pulled Galion’s hand to his mouth, just holding it against his lips for long moments as he studied the expression on his face. Having watched him over the past few weeks, Thranduil had come to see him very differently. In all the ways that still mattered to him, he remained the one that he had loved so dearly all those years ago, yet he had become a perplexity to him. It was easy to silently watch and study him as he chattered away, requiring no comment or contribution to the one sided conversation.

Thranduil rose from the chair, pulling him into a firm embrace as he reached his full height. A few inches taller than him, Thranduil leaned downward slightly, pressing his forehead against his as he closed his eyes for a moment to collect himself. Aldalómë had always been the aggressor in their encounters and Thranduil was unsure of himself even as he desired him.

Sensing his unease, Galion tilted his head upward, kissing him tenderly as he teased his lips with the tip of his tongue.

Groaning softly at the invitation, Thranduil crushed him against him as he snaked his tongue into the warmth of the willing mouth offered to him. Tangling his fingers in the long dark tresses, his kiss grew more searching, almost hungry as he savored the feel of him in his arms.

“I do not ask for what you cannot give freely.” Thranduil breathed as he released his mouth, yet still held him tightly.

“I just needed to know this was what you wanted.” Galion replied, brushing his lips with his own as he spoke. “I was only waiting for you to ask.”

“I am asking.” Thranduil whispered, recapturing his mouth in a deep searching kiss. Groaning softly as Galion pressed himself against him, revealing the hard length of his own desire. Slowly releasing him, Thranduil laughed slightly, more out of nervousness as he took his hand to lead him into the bed chamber. 

Slowly undressing him as if he were a present, Thranduil kept leaning forward, kissing his lips and face. Slipping easily out of his house robes as he watched Galion climb into the bed, he wanted nothing more than to spend the entire evening with him but he knew that would not be possible. Although his father had not visited his chambers since that night, the risk they were taking now was enough to concern him.

Collecting the small vial of thick oil he kept hidden behind the broken panel of the headboard of his bed, he settled beside him as he dipped his index finger into it. Thranduil leaned forward teasing the silken surface of the crown of his sex with the tip of his tongue as he sought the small rear opening with his finger. Pressing into him, he slowly swallowed the length of him until he felt the pressure at the back of his throat. Swallowing, he massaged the head with the same rhythmic thrusts of his finger as he listened to Galion’s soft moans. Rolling the fluids on his tongue, he tasted him, slowly inserting the second finger as he gently prepared him. Even listening to the growing urgency of Galion’s moans, he was still unprepared for the feel of his release as it filled his mouth. Startled, Thranduil froze for an instant before swallowing and continuing to suckle him as Galion thrust forward in his release.

Moving up over him, Thranduil turned him onto his side as he snuggled closely behind him, he was content at the moment to just hold him. Unsure of himself as Aldalómë had been his first lover and the dominant one between them. Leaning down, he kissed his cheek and jawline as he traced his fingertips over his body, enjoying the slight tremble he felt in him. Slowly though, as the ache in his groin became unbearable, he positioned himself at his opening, rubbing firmly against it before pressing into the tight warmth.

Groaning softly as he buried himself deeply within him, he held tightly to him for long moments, feeling almost overwhelmed by the pleasure that washed over him. Slowly he rocked against him, savoring the feel of the tight ring that slipped along the length of his shaft as he took him in long gentle strokes. Burying his face in his neck as the tension built within him, he breathed in the scent of him, thrusting faster and harder as he felt his impending release.

Clinging to him for long moments, Thranduil nuzzled his neck, placing soft kisses just below his ear as he waited for the weak feeling to pass. Finally pulling himself free of him, he pushed him onto his back as he rolled on top of him. Slipping his arms beneath his shoulders, he cradled his head in his hands as he kissed him softy.

Pulling back from him slightly, Thranduil smiled down at him, enjoying the feel of Galion’s gentle touch as he softly caressed his back. He let his gaze travel over the dusky shade of his full lips, the dark sooty color of his lashes, focusing on the soft moss green of his eyes. Pale like the color of new spring moss, yet there were darker emerald flecks that sparkled within their depths. He knew there was no turning back now, things had definitely changed between them but he found himself more than pleased with the change.

“Now I must go.” He told him when Thranduil remained silent, only arching a questioning brow at him. “I will see you in the morning.”

Capturing his mouth once more, Thranduil kissed him for long moments before reluctantly releasing him and allowing him to slip out of the bed. Quickly pulling on his robes as Thranduil climbed under the covers, he still reached down to pull them up over him out of habit as he leaned down and kissed him. It was not the customary fatherly kiss on his forehead, rather he kissed him deeply before caressing his cheek and then turning quickly to leave him.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Unfortunately, as the day of his departure loomed, Thranduil grew more apprehensive for what the future held for him. Standing silently in his private garden he longed to be in the forest, to listen to the soft voices of the many creatures that lived there. He wanted to feel the soft breezes in his hair and on his face as he walked amongst the trees, to savor the scents lingering in those breezes. The expressionless mask he wore revealed nothing of the chaos that raged within him. 

He was well aware that his father would never agree to his choice of a Silvan elf as a wife, even if he was inclined to accommodate him in the fulfillment of that duty. Forcing himself to think of the long talks he had with Galion about this place he was being exiled, he could also see that his father had plans within plans. While it was the realm of the Wood elves who were kin to the Silvan elves, there was also a large number of Sindar that also lived there. He thought too of Aldalómë, he had been attracted to him, even enchanted by the beautiful golden elf, but he knew now it was not love.

He had been alone most of the day as there were other matters requiring Galions’ attention, he also knew there would be personal things as well and Thranduil understood. He had joined him for the morning and midday meals, breaking up the silent monotony of the dreary days he had spent confined to his rooms. Thranduil had become so accustomed to him being there that he found he missed him when he was gone for long periods of time. 

“I wondered where you had gone off to.” Thranduil chuckled, turning slightly at the sound of Galion clearing his throat at the door. Although he knew he had been supervising the loading of the belongings they were taking with them to Lórinand.

“Alythiyiá would like to know if there is anything particular you would like for the evening meal?” He asked as he walked out into the garden to stand next to him.

“No.” Thranduil sighed softly, maintaining the slight smile as Galion stepped up beside him. “Whatever you bring will be fine.”

“Tell me Galion.” He began, his voice taking on the strange contemplative tone he had adopted during last couple of weeks if his confinement. “Do you think he will bother to say goodbye?” His gaze remained fixed on some distant point that only he seemed to see.

“The king is stubborn.” Galion replied cautiously, the new relationship between them was still a bit fragile, he believed Thranduil still loved his father and did not wish to create trouble there.

“Who is being evasive now?” Thranduil stated more than asked as he turned his head slightly to glance at him.

“Humph!” Galion snorted, noting the glint in Thranduils’ eyes even though his expression did not change.

“When you return, I think tonight I would like to talk more about Lórinand.” Thranduil said quietly, almost to himself as he turned and walked back into his sitting room toward his wine cupboard. “I am very interested in the elves that live there.” He continued as he poured himself an ample portion of wine.

“As you wish.” Galion stated as he walked toward the door. “I should not be long.” 

Moving toward the hearth, Thranduil sighed heavily as he sank into one of the chairs and set the goblet on the stand next to him. Closing his eyes, he knew it was not going to be forever but it was the not knowing how long his father would wait to allow him to come back that angered him. He would be on unstable ground in Lórinand with no one beyond Galion, for whom he was truly grateful. He was convinced this was just another tactic his father was using to try to force his hand into marriage which he was not opposed to in the proper time and an elleth (elf maiden) of his own choosing. Based on his fathers’ claims to have known all along about his relationship with Aldalómë, this excursion was more than likely something worked out between his father and King Amdír long before their final confrontation. While arranged marriages were not the custom among elves, they were not unheard of particularly among those of noble rank.

Smiling to himself as Galion returned, his constant chatter commencing almost as soon as the door closed behind him. While it felt to Thranduil that he had been imprisoned in his rooms far longer than he knew he actually was, he had to admit having him around was enjoyable.

“It took a little longer because Alythiyiá was still baking the bread and I wanted to bring you some of the freshest.” Galion stated as he began his normal ritual of setting the table and filling their plates.

“It smells good.” Thranduil ventured a comment as he took his now customary seat facing the hearth. He wasn’t really hungry but arguing with Galion about anything was not something he wanted, especially on the eve of their departure.

“I was thinking that all of this might prove to be interesting.” Thranduil commented quietly, watching him as Galion watched him back.

“How do you mean?” Galion asked curiously as he spread the honey thickly over the bread he was preparing for him.

“I have no memories of my fathers’ home in Lindon and I never been outside of the Woodland Realm.” He replied thoughtfully. “I have never had a reason or desire to leave. At least it is still spring, it could turn out to be enjoyable in spite of my father.”

“It really is not all that different from here, only very much smaller.” Galion told him as he poured their tea. “It is Sindar ruled with a majority of those living there being Wood Elves. Their primary language is the same as here. The Nandor are friendly enough but they really do not care for either Sindar or Noldor.”

“Interesting considering my father’s extreme dislike for the Noldor.” Thranduil commented quietly, almost as if he spoke out loud to himself.

Thranduil listened quietly as Galion continued to talk about the history of Lórinand, King Amdír, as well as commenting on various other notable elves who sought refuge there. He did not know any of those Galion spoke of except through word of mouth as far as who they were. He smiled as Galion made a particular point of mentioning that King Gil-galad’s personal healer Elrond was also known to visit Lórinand from time to time. 

“I can tend to myself this evening. I am sure there are others with whom you should spend your time with tonight, considering that we are leaving in the morning.” Thranduil said, pushing himself up from the table. “I am fine Galion. I will see you in the morning.” He added, his stern tone lessened slightly by his smile.

“Do you want me to bring you something to help you sleep?” Galion asked quietly as he rose to his feet and walked toward him. “It is going to be a long day and I can already see that mind of yours...”

“No.” Thranduil chuckled as he slipped his arms around him. “You worry about me far more than necessary.” He added as he leaned down, kissing his forehead. “I want you to spend time with your friends tonight. I am going to enjoy the fire for a little while, have some wine and then I am going to bed.”

“If you insist. I suppose I can find something to do with my time.” Galion sighed, his slight pout soliciting a gentle hug and another chuckle from Thranduil.

Turning away from him, Thranduil went to his wine cupboard yet he watched him as Galion quickly cleared the table, stacking everything on the tray to be returned to the kitchen. Turning toward him as Galion made his way to the door, he carefully schooled his expression to one he hoped reflected at least some level of contentment. He had no idea how long they would be gone, it was important to him that Galion enjoy this time with his friends since the servant had already given up so much by insisting on accompanying him.

He knew Galion was right yet sleep was the last thing on his mind as he poured himself an ample portion of the dark red Dorwinion wine. He smiled in silent appreciation that Galion managed to keep the cupboard well stocked for him, he had developed quite a taste for the strong heady brew over the long weeks of his confinement. There was too much to think about to even consider retiring for the evening, not even a hot bath would relax him enough to escape into slumber this night.

“There you are!” Kérÿth exclaimed as Galion entered the kitchen carrying the tray ladened with empty plates and the remains of the evening meal for the prince.

“Where else would I be at this time of the day?” Galion asked, frowning slightly as he handed the tray to one of the kitchen helpers who seemed to appear quickly out of nowhere. “What did you need?” He asked as he turned toward him.

“Lord Garävegión wishes to speak with you.” Kérÿth stated as he nodded toward the door as if to hurry him up a bit.

“What is this about?” Galion asked, a sinking feeling setting firmly in his stomach as he quickly followed him out of the kitchen.

“He did not say.” Kérÿth replied, casting him a sideways glance. “Only that he needed to speak with you tonight as he is aware that you are departing in the morning.”

“I see.” Galion sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly and the tightness in his stomach returned. He knew full well what the lord wanted to talk to him about but there was nothing more he could tell him as the prince was far from being ready to talk about it.

“He is in his study.” Kérÿth said quietly as he opened the door of the lords’ chambers. “Go on in.”

Steeling himself for a conversation he would much rather avoid, Galion squared his shoulders and walked the short distance down the narrow hallway to the open door of the lords’ study.

“You wanted to see me hîr vuin?” (My Lord) Galion asked quietly as he stepped up to the door.

“Yes Galion, I do.” Lord Garävegión stated, smiling softly to take the edge from his words as he rose from behind his desk. “Please come in and close the door if you do not mind.” He added as he walked toward a small table against the wall to pour them both a cup of tea.

“Honey?” He asked, looking back over his shoulder at the servant.

“Lots.” Galion replied, smiling a little sheepishly.

“I like a lot too.” Lord Garävegión said with a wink and a grin. “Please, sit down.”

Slightly uncomfortable with the situation, Galion was still glad that he had taken his concerns to him. The lord was one of the few members of the kings’ advisors that did not hold to the idea that Silvan elves were somehow lesser than their distant Sindar kin. Many of those who had spent the majority of their lives in the west, particularly in the areas of Lindon, Doriath and the Gulf of Rhûn seemed to have forgotten that they were both descents of the Teleri Clan.

“I just want to clear up a few things.” Lord Garävegión said quietly as he handed him a cup of tea and moved toward the chair opposite him.

“I am sure you are aware of the circumstances prompting the kings’ drastic measures.” He continued as he made himself comfortable. “You probably already know as well it was my son with whom the king found him.” He added, finally meeting the servants gaze.

“I am aware of both yes.” Galion answered, a slight frown creasing his brow as he continued to watch the lord.

“Do you remember when it was that you discovered what you told me about?” Lord Garävegión asked, preferring to get straight to the point on the sensitive matter first.

“It was.” Galion started then paused as his frown deepened in thought. “The prince was barely into his adult years, perhaps a hundred and fifty there about. He claimed he had hurt his shoulder in a fall from his horse, which I did not believe.”

“I am sure your memory is just fine Galion.” Lord Garävegión stated, a knowing smile curled his lips. “Your discovery confirms what myself and Lady Laurefindë had only suspected. My son was the young prince’s lover yes, but only for the past two turnings (years). Based on what I have come to understand from my son, the prince had not taken a lover before him.”

“So Oropher...”

“I am afraid so.” Lord Garävegión interrupted him. “Unfortunately with so much time passed, there is little that can be done.” He stated, pausing to sip his tea for a moment.

“However.” He continued, pinioning the servant with a firm gaze. “Because we suspected this was happening, Laurefindë and I took great pains some time ago in convincing him to send him to Lórinand. I know.” He said raising his hand to silence the servant when he opened his mouth to speak.

“We have our reasons.” Lord Garävegión stated pointedly. “Mainly to get him away from his father and into the hands of those who can help him but he is going to need your help more than he knows.”

“What do you mean, my help?” Galion asked, suddenly very interested in what the lord had to tell him.

“Shortly after our last discussion I had reason to travel to Imladris and speak with Lord Elrond.” Lord Garävegión told him, pausing again to sip his tea and collect his thoughts. “I confided in him my personal suspicions and requested that he travel to Lórinand to see what he can do to help him. Because he seems to trust you, your part in all of this is to convince him that Elrond seeks only to help him.”

“Yes, but Thranduil does not want to talk about it even to me!” Galion exclaimed, his eyes widening slightly. “He will never talk to a total stranger!”

“Leave that to me.” Lord Garävegión stated with a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

“I miss you already.” Húriön said quietly as he hugged his friend tightly, blinking back the tears that threatened.

“I will not be gone forever.” Galion said softly as he hugged him back. “The king is stubborn but he will not abandon his son.”

“I still don’t understand…”

“That child is the future of this realm.” Galion interrupted him sternly, pulling away slightly as he took his face in his hands. “This world is changing, we may not be a part of it but we cannot ignore it.”

“Do not be sad.” Galion continued softly, smiling at his friend. “Now I must go, I have things to do before I return to him. He tries so hard to be strong but his heart has been sorely wounded. Today will be difficult for him.”

Nodding in agreement, Húriön could do nothing but watch as his friend quickly departed from him. The hour was still far too early for him to concern himself with attending to the king yet too late to return to the comfort of his bed.

Moving silently but quickly through the halls, Galion made his way to the back entrance to the kitchen. Waving his normal morning greetings to the few elves that had gathered to begin their preparations for the morning meal, his eyes scanned quickly for Alythiyiá.

“I packed all of his favorites.” She said quietly, her voice cracking slightly as she greeted him.

“Oh don’t you start too! Everything is going to be fine.” He told her, hugging her tightly. “We will be back before you know it.” He added quickly, kissing her cheek.

“Be safe.” She whispered as she gave him a tight squeeze, a worried frown marking her brow as she watched him hurriedly disappear out the back entrance.

“Faÿláën!” Galion called out as he entered the kings’ stables.

“Ayë!” (Yes) He answered back as he popped his head out of Maeglirs’ (Thranduils’ steed) stall. “Back here!”

“Everything ready?” Galion asked, hurrying toward him.

“The rumors were true, the king has ordered the carriage be readied. He will have it sent to the back entrance when you are ready to leave.” Faÿláën said quietly as Galion reached the stall. “The others are grooming the coach horses now. But I did as you asked.” He added with a big smile.

“Good! Put this in Maeglirs’ bags.” Galion stated as he handed him the bundle from Alythiyiá. “Everything has been loaded in the buck wagon. We will not need the carriage, the prince will refuse to even get in it anyway. You just make sure that wagon and these mounts are at the front to greet him. Now I must be off to see to the Prince.”

While he personally had no desire to deal with the king this morning, in his heart Galion hoped and prayed that he would at least put in an appearance for the sake of his son. It had been so long with not a word from his father as they waited for Thranduils’ bruises to heal. There had been no way to conceal the young prince’s absence. The tension within the halls had been palpable yet Galion found it remarkable the gossips had stayed their tongues during his absence. Galion knew it was wrong to change the kings’ orders, yet he knew Thranduil would not stand for it.

“The king?” Galion asked the guard as he entered the antechamber that divided the two royal chambers.

“He has already sent for his morning meal.” Rûingäraf answered quietly, his expression full of concern. “He also sent word that he would not be needing Húriön this morning.”

“I see.” Galion sighed deeply. “This is not a good sign.”

“In time he will come to regret his anger.” Rûingäraf said reassuringly, reaching out to gasp Galions’ shoulder. “There is still love in him for his son.” The guards’ eyes filled with sorrow.

“What of Thranduil?!” Galion stated, his eyes flashed with anger. 

“The Prince has you.” Rûingäraf stated, his expression turning to one of concern as he leaned a little closer. “They are both stubborn in their own ways. Perhaps the distance between them will make the king see that.”

“Or drive them further apart.” Galion sighed as he struggled to collect himself before facing the prince. “Either way, there is nothing to be done about it now.” He added as the guard opened the door for him.

Pausing briefly as he entered, Galion listened for any signs of movement within the chambers. It was deathly quiet and slightly unsettling as he hurriedly went about the task of lighting the small lamps before heading toward the princes’ bed chamber. While the hour was still very early he had expected Thranduil to at least be up and about as he was not known to be late in his sleeping. Lighting the small lamps throughout the room, he frowned as he noted the bed covers were thrown back yet there was no sign of the prince.

“Thranduil?” He called out as he walked toward the bathing chamber only to find it empty as well.

“I needed a little fresh air.” Thranduil stated clearly as he walked back inside from his private garden. “Where did you think I had gone?” He added as Galion appeared suddenly from the bed chamber, the sarcastic tone of his voice softened only somewhat by his smile.

“Do you want something to eat?” Galion asked, observing his movements as Thranduil walked gracefully toward the hearth. The dampness of his hair told him that he had already bathed, brushing it out and arranging it for him should not take long.

“There is no need.” Thranduil replied as he sank into one of the chairs. “I have already put the kettle on the hearth and I believe there is still some of Alythiyiá’s cinnamon bread in the tin on the table. That should be fine.”

Smiling to himself Galion set about the task of preparing the cups for tea. There was more than enough of the cinnamon bread for the two of them as well as honey. He had made sure to leave the extras in the room after each meal, although he had noted that Thranduil barely touched any of it for the most part.

“If we leave shortly after first light we should arrive just before midday tomorrow.” Galion said as he brought him a cup of tea and a small plate of the honeyed cinnamon bread.

Although he smiled as he accepted the plate Thranduil remained quiet, his thoughts turning to the sketches in the books he had requested Galion bring him. It was not that great of a distance yet he saw no need to push the guards or the horses, he was concerned that most of their journey would be across open grasslands. There had been no signs or reports of trouble on this side of the Misty Mountains, making camp without the cover of the trees could still be risky.

“There has been no word from my father as to the number of the accompaniment.” Thranduil finally spoke, his gaze still lingering on the dancing flames in the hearth. “We have much open ground to cover once we leave the forest.”

“I would not worry on it too much.” Galion said quietly as he rose to his feet. “I will lay out your traveling clothes. There is still time but don’t tarry too long.”

Smiling to himself as he left the prince to his thoughts, Galion set about laying out the new set of riding clothes he had secreted into the room the other evening. Patterned after the uniforms worn by the forest patrols and made for traveling on horseback, the mid-thigh length tunic buttoned down the front with a slit up the back, with long full sleeves as was the princes’ favorite style. The high ornamental band collar would accent his slender neck very nicely. Dyed to his favorite color of deep forest green, the silk was accented with silver stitching along the seams and adorned with elaborate embroidery in silver thread of the Crest of the Woodland Realm just beneath the shoulder lapels on each side of the front and a larger one emblazoned on the back. The seamstresses had also made him a riding cloak of the same colors embroidered with a single large crest in the center of the back.

“Thranduil.” Galion said quietly as he returned to the sitting room to find the prince still gazing into the hearth. “It is time.”

“So it is.” Thranduil sighed as he pushed himself up from the comfort of the chair. He smiled appreciatively as he walked toward the servant who had become his shadow, his friend and now his lover.

“What is this?” Thranduil asked, his eyes widening as he touched the tunic almost reverently, his fingers tracing the beautifully intricate embroidery of the crest. He knew each and every tunic and robe he owned and had no recollection of such a beautiful color and craftsmanship.

“It was intended to be a gifting to you at the Autumn Festival of Lanta`Eostra.” Galion told him as he walked up to him. “Thranduil.” He paused, searching those beautiful eyes for a moment. “It is not that the king is disliked, quite the contrary, in most ways we are happy with him. Yet, we adore you and wanted so much to show you this.”

“It is a beautiful gift!” Thranduil said, his voice almost a whisper as he continued to run his hands over the softness of the silk, examining the embroidery and the tiny silver buttons down the front and on the cuffs of the sleeves. 

“The hour grows late.” Galion told him as he turned away from him to collect the pale green thin cotton leggings he had laid out on the bed. Properly woven silk was thick and could prove uncomfortably warm during the milder seasons, the cotton under garments allowed the flow of air to the skin preventing overheating.

Smiling to himself as Thranduil quickly discarded his robe, he was happy that he allowed him to assist him. Although he had offered numerous times, it was something that seemed to make the prince uncomfortable, preferring to dress himself. 

“It is perfect!” Thranduil exclaimed, watching in the tall mirrored glass as Galion assisted him, admiring the way it draped over his body, accenting his slender form. “How will I be able to thank them for this?” Thranduil asked as he obediently sat in the chair in front of his dressing table.

“Seeing you wearing it will be enough.” Galion told him as he began the pleasurable task of brushing out his long silvery blonde tresses. “You look so beautiful in it.” He told him, meeting Thranduils’ gaze in the mirrored glass of the dressing table.

Both fell silent yet Galion could feel the young prince’s eyes on him as he brushed out his hair and began the task of creating the intricate braids above each ear and drawing them together in the back, weaving a third braid down the length of it. Galion knew the young prince was aware that his life had changed, he could feel the uncertainty within him. He knew as well there was nothing he could say to him that would ease the pain in his heart, as it was something that would only come with time.

“You will make a fine ambassador for the Woodland Realm.” Galion stated, his eyes shining proudly as he handed the silver circlet to him, watching as he positioned it on his head. “Come now.” He chuckled, patting his shoulders lightly. “I will make us another cup of tea while we wait.”

Thranduil rose to his feet, pausing for a moment not only to admire the new riding clothes, but to reflect on Galions’ words as he gazed into his own eyes. This was his home, for as much as his father had tried to separate him from them, he had in truth grown up among the Silvan elves and in many ways felt far more of a kinship among them than he did with many of those who shared his Sindarin heritage. These were his people and it was for that reason that he disagreed often with his fathers’ politics in their private discussions. Somewhere deep inside he knew the recent events marked a turning point in his life yet he had no awareness of the direction the fates had chosen for him. Collecting the riding cloak from the bed, he entered the sitting room.

Smiling as he observed him, Thranduil seemed taller as he strode decisively toward him, with his head held high. His expression was guarded, not quite the closed indifferent attitude he had adopted over the last several days, yet still unreadable. There was something in his gaze that had hardened, reflecting a purpose that had not been there before.

“I do not wish to wait.” Thranduil stated as he laid the cloak over the back of the settee. “I would like to speak one of the guards.” He added as he continued toward the boot rack by the hearth, watching as Galion hurried quickly to carry out his wishes.

“My Lord?” Thalieth inquired as he entered the sitting room.

“Please inform my father I wish to speak with him.” He stated without looking up as he pulled on his knee high leather riding boots.

“The king has stated that he is not to be disturbed.” Thalieth informed him, his tone firm but respectful. His eyes widening slightly as Thranduil rose to his full height, his eyes narrowing only slightly yet the full force of his will radiated from them.

“I suggest you take whatever measures you see fit to convince him otherwise.” Thranduil stated, his tone was calm yet firm, brooking no argument. “Or I shall be forced to break down his door.”

“I have decided that I do not wish to make camp unless it is absolutely necessary.” Thranduil said quietly as he picked up the riding cloak and turned toward Galion, his expression softening considerably. “I want to be in Lórinand before or shortly after nightfall this evening.”

“What is the meaning of this?! How dare you summon me!?” Oropher demanded as he burst into his sons’ chambers.

Visibly taken aback as he stopped only a few feet into the sitting room, his face revealing his shock as he stared openly at the glorious image of his son. Thranduil stood there before him with all the regal airs of a king, his shoulders thrown back in a commanding stance that dared any to defy him. The beautiful face now cold and as unfeeling as a stone statue, his chin lifted in a slight but clear display of defiance, yet it was his gaze that seemed to scorch him to his very core.

“I wanted you to see me just once before I leave.” Thranduil told him silently as the two stood there for long moments staring at each other.

“I believe it is only respectful that I inform you of the time of my departure.” Thranduil stated far more calmly than he felt, his gaze never wavering as he stared defiantly at his father.

“I will summoned the carriage and company to the back entrance.” Oropher stated, collecting himself quickly as he continued to meet the cold stare. His heart was filled with much pride in the change he saw in his son, yet he would not allow him to see it.

“Really.” Thranduil laughed, a hollow sound that held no humor but rather dripped in sarcasm, his clear sapphire eyes widening only slightly as they challenged him. “I will not skulk about like a thief in the night or a lowly scullery servant in a back halls of my own fathers’ house.” He continued, his tone was clear and firm as he walked toward him. “I will send word once we have reached Lórinand.”

Striding past the silent figure of his father, he looked back only to insure that Galion followed. Without so much as another glance toward his father, he strode purposefully toward the west corridor that would lead them to the main entrance of the palace. Thranduil struggled to control his anger while Galion followed a step behind beaming with pride.

“Thranduil wait!” Galion grabbed his arm to stop him before he reached the main door.

“What is it?” He asked, frowning deeply as he turned to look at him.

“I have not said anything because I did not wish to upset you further…”

“Galion, what is it?” Thranduil asked impatiently, his expression revealing his frustration.

“I believe by now there is probably quite a large good crowd outside that door waiting to wish you well.” He blurted out quickly, feeling more than a little nervous as he watched the different emotions chase themselves in the depths of his eyes.

“We will discuss this later.” Thranduil told him, not sure what to make of the situation but he was thankful Galion had stopped him as it gave him the opportunity to collect himself a bit. “Shall we?” He added, waving his hand toward the large double oaken doors.

Even with the brief warning Thranduil was completely unprepared for the mass of Silvan as well as Sindar elves that nearly ran up the few steps onto the broad platform just outside the main doors. Many of the Sindar elves were approximately his height while the Silvan elves were only slightly taller than adolescent human children to him as they swarmed around him. Quickly handing the riding cloak to Galion, he turned to greet them.

“Oh my stars!” He exclaimed as so many began talking to him all at once and reaching out to touch him. Impulsively he leaned down attempting to speak directly to each one of them as he hugged the ones he could reach.

“Everyone please!” Arthädión called out over the rising sound of their mingling voices, even waving his hands to get their attention. “Give the Prince some room!”

“It is quite alright Arthädión, really.” Thranduil laughed casting the older elf a sympathetic smile as he noticed the clear frustration on his face.

“Thank you all for this wonderful greeting at this early hour!” He stated, the clear tone of his newly found voice carrying easily across the courtyard. “I am truly honored by your gift.” He told them, placing his hand on his chest as his eyes scanned the many smiling faces, all of them filled his heart with joy.

“We came to wish you a safe journey hîr vuin.” (My Lord) Arthädión told him as he made his way through the crowd toward him. “We worry, neither you nor the king have ever departed from here since your arrival.” He added as he reached his side, the previous frustration now replaced with concern on his face.

Nodding, Thranduil turned to face the large group of elves that stared back at him in anticipation of some word from him. “I have to say I was not prepared to give a speech.” He stated, a huge smile nearly splitting his face as he glanced over their anxious faces. “I assure you there is no reason to be concerned. I merely journey to visit with our friends in Lórinand as an Ambassador of the Woodland Realm. I will return, of that you have my promise.”

Thranduil continued to hug them and talk to them as he made his way down the steps toward Maeglir who tossed his mane and pranced a bit as he reached him. “I know, I have neglected you lately and I am sorry my friend.” He told him as he wrapped his arms around the stallions’ strong neck.

“Thranduil.” Galion said quickly to get his attention as he handed him the cloak.

Nodding toward him as he accepted it, throwing it around his shoulders with a flair, he fastened the clasp at his throat. Grasping the saddle horn, he gracefully swung his long frame up onto the back of the huge white stallion. Pausing for a moment to glance back over the crowd, he waved at them and signaled Maeglir forward, followed closely by Galion and the accompaniment of six guards acting as escorts and the small wagon containing their personal belongings. As much as he wanted to move quickly once they reached the forest, Thranduil slowed their pace somewhat as he heard the voices of yet more elves in the trees calling out to him, wishing them all a safe journey.

“I think I need to get you a bigger horse.” Thranduil laughed as Galion guided his mount closer to him once they emerged from the forest.

“This one suits me just fine.” Galion stated as he looked up at him. It had been a while since he had taken the time to ride in the forests, tending the king seemed to take up so much of his time.

“I suppose you had nothing to do with all of that back there.” Thranduil commented, glancing down at him as a slight smile curled his lips.

“As much as I would like to take credit, I cannot.” Galion stated in a matter of fact tone. “You were very much missed especially in the dining hall, questions started to be asked.” He said a bit cautiously. “As far as I am aware, no one actually knows about the incident and they do not need to know. They know only that you and the king had words but it was impossible to hide your absence.”

“I see.” Thranduil commented thoughtfully, his expression changing to one that Galion could not read.

“I do not wish to stop. Can we reach Lórinand by nightfall?” Thranduil asked, turning his attention to Faÿláën who had ridden up closer to them.

“We should my Lord.” Faÿláën replied with a nod. “The sun will crest soon and we can move faster now that we are out of the forest. It is flat open ground between here and there.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments are always welcome!


	6. Chapter 6

“Insolent to very end!” Oropher spat angrily as he refilled his goblet. “You should have seen it Garävegión! They were fawning all over him as if he was the king himself!”

“It is not surprising. He does not share your prejudices toward the Silvan elves and they know this.” Lord Garävegión said quietly, guarding his tone as he watched the king sink slowly back into the large chair opposite him. “It has been nearly four months. Surely you did not believe his absence would have gone unnoticed.” He added, continuing to needle him as he studied the king.

“The arrogance! He is being punished and he tells them he is the Ambassador of the Woodland Realm!” Oropher exclaimed, waving his hand in the air in frustration. “Well, he’ll find out soon enough that all of his foolish notions are over!” He continued to rant as he glared at Garävegión angrily.

“What are you talking about?” Lord Garävegión asked quietly, a sinking feeling in his gut that he was not going to like the answer.

“I have asked King Amdír to seek out and offer arrangements for a suitable young Sindar as a wife for him.” Oropher stated with a smile. “That will put a stop to his foolish dalliances. It is time he accepts his responsibility to produce an heir.” He added, a slight lilt of humor in his tone as his icy blue eyes danced.

“You cannot be serious Oropher!” Garävegión exclaimed, his eyes widening as he stared at him in disbelief. “For Eru’s (God’s) sake he’s still very much a child!”

“He stopped being a child almost four hundred years ago!” Oropher retorted angrily. 

“Yes! In age he is no longer a child!” Lord Garävegión exclaimed, his eyes narrowing at the king. “But he is not ready. All his life you have done nothing but bark orders at him, tell him what to do and how to do it! You have never allowed him to think for himself and when he tries you do nothing but criticize him. You have done your best to segregate him from the very people he is supposed to govern. He is not ready for the world you are trying to shove him into!” He ranted, unable to stop himself now that he was angry enough to speak his mind.

“I had to do something!” Oropher exclaimed, frowning at him. “I regret that I reacted the way I did but I could not have him going about with those…” 

He stopped himself as he remembered seeing his son’s face while he slept under heavy sedation from the brew Galion had made for him. He was thankful that nothing was broken save the ugly split in his swollen lower lip. The deep purple bruises that marred his beautiful face, across his cheek and under his one eyes were painful just to look upon, he could only imagine the pain his son had felt. Even the dark bruising on his wrist, so obviously shaped in a hand print had hit him hard in his gut. He truly regretted striking out at him in anger. 

“I do not understand why you felt the need to barge in there the way you did.” Lord Garävegión stated, bracing himself for the tirade that was sure to follow. Yet it was necessary, when he was angry the king was far less careful in his choice of words and he wanted him to say something, anything that would come close to an admission for what he had done to his son.

“What else was I supposed to do?!” Oropher bellowed angrily, his ice blue eyes focusing on his Chief Adviser. “I could not very well have that…”

“That was my son.” Lord Garävegión interrupted him, his own anger now rising from the pit of his stomach like a foul taste. “And I have dealt with him as you so ordered. But you remember this Oropher.” He continued, his tone was cold as he rose from the chair. “I know about Cerályië, I am not the only one who was there when she found out about him. You destroyed her, she is gone because of you, not that child whom you have blamed and abused his entire life. Do not fool yourself into believing what you have done is not known. I hope you can forgive yourself because I never will.”

“Are you threatening me?!” Oropher demanded as he watched him stride purposefully toward the door, his long silvery hair flowing behind him. 

“I do not need to.” Lord Garävegión stated as he swung around to face him, his pale gray-blue eyes appearing more as chips of ice. “Your past and your own impetuousness will destroy you, you damned fool! I can only pray you do not bring Thranduil down with you. He deserves so much more than what you have ever given him.” He told him before turning away, slamming the door behind him as he left the kings’ chambers.

Taking a long drink from the goblet, Oropher turned to stare into the flames in the hearth. He did not need to struggle to recall her face. Háleärgiliäth, he saw her every time he looked into the face of their son. Like himself, she was Iathrim (Note) and held to be the highest and noblest of the Grey-Elven kindred. Descending as well from the Vanyar, she was tall for an elleth, (elf maiden) with long soft tresses of silver hair that framed her beautiful oval face. It was if her fäë (soul) stared back at him through the eyes of their son, pure sapphire that sparkled with the glimmer of diamonds like starlight that could not fade with coming of the dawn.

“You will torment me for all of my transgressions until the end of my days won’t you.” He stated out loud, his tone dripping with the same bitterness he felt in his heart toward her. Tipping the goblet to his lips, he drained the last of it and stared down into it. “Damned you!” He cursed her as he threw the goblet across the room.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

“The Vales of Anduin are just beyond that rise.” Faÿláën stated as he guided his mount closer to the prince and Galion. “We will need to take the ferry to cross the river into the vale.” 

“The vales are home to both the Nandor who look to Lenwë for guidance and Westmen who do the same toward Edain.” Galion stated. “While neither have officially taken titles they both are respected as leaders in Lórinand.”

Nodding Thranduil’s expression turned inward for a long moment. “I will take only you and Faÿláën to meet with them.” He stated, turning his attention back to Faÿláën.

“As you wish.” Faÿláën replied, nodding a respectful bow before turning his mount back to inform the rest of their party as to their plans.

“I find it most interesting that you know much for one who enjoys presenting himself as a lowly servant.” Thranduil commented quietly, turning toward him, the stern expression contradicted by the slight arch of his brow and the sparkle in his eyes. 

“I have already told you, there are many things to be learned that cannot be learned from a book.” Galion replied, lifting his chin as he stared back at the prince.

“Shall we?” Thranduil stated, urging Maeglir forward as Faÿláën returned.

Cresting the top of the rise they were greeted with Thranduils’ first view of occupied lands outside of the Woodland Realm. The evening had darkened save for the silvery light of the moon and an array of stars that glittered against a velvety sky. The lights of the many lanterns along the Anduin River cast a warm glow against the backdrop of the darker forest beyond. Slowing their mounts, the princes’ party approached the river and the ferry dock with caution.

“Wait here.” Faÿláën said quietly as he nudged his mount to a slightly faster gait toward the small group of approaching elves.

“Greetings friends.” One of them addressed him as he reached them. “I am Féÿgián, the Ferry Master.”

“I am Faÿláën, chief escort to Prince Thranduil of the Woodland Realm.” He replied with a respectful nod. “We are a party of eight including the Prince. We seek entrance to Lórinand as arranged by King Amdír and King Oropher.”

“We did not expect you until morning, but it is of no matter.” Féÿgián informed him. “Please, collect your party and meet us at the ferry. I will send word to Lenwë that you have arrived.” He added and turned with the others away from him without another word.

Even though the ferry boats were built to transport large shipments in trade with the dwarves of Khazad-dûm, it had been a tedious process and required both of them. Standing close to Maeglir, Thranduil lovingly caressed the huge horses’ neck and rubbed his nose gently to comfort him as they waited for the ferry to reach the other side. It was a most unsettling feeling without solid ground beneath their feet.

“Welcome Prince Thranduil, I am Lenwë” A tall silver haired elf greeted him with a warm smile as Thranduil led Maeglir up the slight rise to more level ground away from the rivers’ shore. “We are honored by your visit.”

“My father sends goodwill.” Thranduil replied, touching his chest as he nodded in respect, watching him as Lenwë approached him with a broad smile.

“I have not had the opportunity to meet with King Oropher.” Lenwë stated as he extended his hand toward the Prince. “The Sindar of the Woodland Realm are not known for leaving the safety of their forest.”

“Anyë.” (Yes) Thranduil smiled, accepting the outstretched hand, yet he felt somewhat awkward under the intense gaze of his pale blue eyes. “My father is content in his ways.”

“I see.” Lenwë mused briefly. “You are welcome to remain here for the night so you may arrive in the heart of Lórinand more refreshed.” He added as he turned, signaling for Thranduil to come with him. “There are quarters enough for all of you if you do not mind sharing. Anÿlläën is an excellent horseman, he will look after your mounts and show your guards to their quarters once they have been seen to.”

“Thank you for your hospitality.” Thranduil said as he fell in step with the tall elf, whose appearance so resembled Aldalómë in the twilight. He forced those thoughts quickly from his mind. Sensing a great age about the elf, he wondered from where he had come and why he had looked at him with such familiarity.

“Will you join me for a drink before you retire?” Lenwë asked, smiling as he turned slightly to assess the young prince. “Faiga will show Galion to your quarters.”

“I would be honored.” Thranduil replied, returning the same friendly smile. Again he found the elf unsettling with his awareness, it was not like his father to extend the courtesy of a second missive for the purpose of providing the name of one he viewed as a lowly Silvan servant. 

“Our ways here are not so different from yours.” Lenwë spoke softly as they walked through the forest toward a large oaken structure that served as both his residence and meeting place, with extra quarters for temporary use in the back.

“I am Telerin born at the time when we were known as Nelyar, although many simply refer to me as Sindar, it is of no matter to me.” He continued, casting a glance at the silent prince who seemed very interested in his words.

“Here we are.” Lenwë smiled broadly as he waved his hand toward the large doors that were pulled open by two elves as they approached.

Beyond the fact that it was notably larger, the home of Lenwë was otherwise unremarkable in comparison to the other dwellings they had passed as they strolled along the path that led deeper into the vale. Other than the elves that greeted them with silent nods at the door, Thranduil noted there appeared to be no servants or otherwise as he led them further into the dwelling. He unfastened his cloak and handed it to Galion, watching as Faiga led him away toward the back of the structure.

“We live a simple life here.” Lenwë told him as he removed his cloak and hung it on a peg just inside his public sitting room. “They only look to me as a guide, the Vale of Anduin is part of Lórinand and under the rule of King Amdír.” He continued as he walked toward a small table to pour them both a goblet of wine. “There is another of the Nelyar with whom you should seek counsel once you are settled in Lórinand. His name is Celeborn, his wife is the Lady Galadriel.”

“You are a good listener young Thranduil.” Lenwë said quietly, as he handed him one of the goblets and waved toward a comfortable looking settee. “I will not keep you long. I am sure you are weary from your travel. A days’ ride on horseback can be fatiguing even for an elf.” He smiled as he sat on the opposite end of the settee. “The wine may help you rest."

“I have had much experience recently in listening to Galions’ continual chatter.” Thranduil laughed, shaking his head slightly.

“Ah, yes, Galion.” Lenwë chuckled, as he looked down into the dark liquid in his goblet. “He is very perceptive and always eager to learn, his memory is remarkable as is that of his sister Minûiáliën. Both chose to leave Lórinand in the early years of the First Age to live in what was then Greenwood as they had other family there.”

“I can see he has not chosen to share that with you.” Lenwë commented as Thranduil remained silent. “I think the two of you have far more in common than you know. While he is eager to share knowledge, he does not always share things of himself. These are both good qualities of one who would lead others.”

“I can see why Oropher would hide you away like a jewel within the darkness of the forest.” He thought to himself as he appreciated the beauty of the young prince. Being his only heir, it was easy as well to see why he would want to bind him to a marriage so soon, yet he sensed a great shifting, from where or whom he had no awareness.

“Even when I ask, he is reluctant to speak of himself.” Thranduil admitted, taking only a small drink of the wine. “For my part there is not much to tell.”

“You would be surprised how much and what kind of information is spread and how quickly.” Lenwë commented, almost absently. “We are not so far from your lands and there is a strong kinship between the Silvan and Wood elves. Both descend from Teleri as do the Sindar. It does not compare to that of Lindon or Doriath, but Lórinand does have a satisfactory library if you choose to visit it during your time with us.” He continued, enjoying the eagerness the young prince tried to hide with his schooled expression.

“Much of my fathers’ library is built on what was brought with us during the journey from Lindon.” Thranduil informed him reluctantly. “I would very much enjoy visiting the one here.”

Lenwë continued to make small talk as he studied him. Although he had never met King Oropher, he was known among the Wood elves as a good but strong handed ruler within the Woodland Realm. He was respected and viewed by most to be fair in his dealings with the Silvan elves, even embracing most their customs and their attunement of nature. There were rumors of discord between the father and son over the past few years, the true nature was not known.

“I have kept you long enough.” Lenwë stated with a wide smile as he rose to his feet. “You must be weary and you need your rest for tomorrow.”

“Thank you.” Thranduil smiled, rising to his feet as Faiga seemed to appear out of nowhere. “I hope we will be able to talk more.”

“We will.” Lenwë smiled as he accepted the now empty wine goblet from him. “Faiga will show you to your room.”

Nodding his head in polite respect, Thranduil turned and followed the Wood elf across the large entry hall.

“The guest quarters are at the back of the meeting hall, near the stables.” Faiga informed him, waving his hand toward the expanse of the large room through which they passed. “Anÿlläën will remain with your mounts for the night, close to your own quarters.” He continued as they turned down a smaller hallway that opened up to a covered walkway lined with doors.

“This will be your room for the evening.” Faiga smiled, waving his hand toward the first door along the row. “If you need anything, Galion can find me nearby.”

“Thank you Faiga.” Thranduil nodded a polite bow of his head. “I am sure everything will be fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Teleri = The third and largest clan of the Eldar, which was comprised of the Sindar, Laiquendi and Nandor elves.
> 
> Iathrim = The Elves of Doriath were those Sindar that lived in the broad forests of central Beleriand, Neldoreth, and Region, under the Kingship of Elu Thingol and later Dior Eluchíl. These people, whose Queen was of the order of the Maiar and whose King was the High King of the Sindar, were held to be the highest and noblest of the Grey-elven kindred.


	7. Chapter 7

Entering quietly, Thranduil smiled as he noted the low burning lantern. Glancing about the dimly lit room, it was modest yet adequate for their needs for the night with two bunks, a small table and two chairs. Moving silently toward the table, he carefully pulled out one of the chairs and sank down onto it. He could see Galion’s form in one of the bunks and glanced toward the one on the opposite wall. It had not been touched, the covers were not turned down. Frowning slightly, he removed his riding boots and set them under the table. Quietly undressing, he kept glancing toward the empty bunk. Pausing for long moments before slipping out of the cotton under garments, he laid them carefully over the back of the chair with the rest of his clothing.

Sliding into the bunk behind Galion, his breath caught in his throat as the warm body snuggled tightly against him. Listening to his even breathing, Thranduil relaxed somewhat as he slipped his arm around the slender waist and pulled him closer to him. Closing his eyes, he lay quietly, content at the moment to breathe in the scent of him, enjoying the feel of his nakedness against his own.

“Have you tired of me already?” Galion asked quietly, squirming slightly against him.

“I thought you were asleep.” Thranduil replied, pressing the hardness of his sex against the curve of his backside as his hand slipped lower to grasp the shaft of Galion’s erection. Rolling on top of him as Galion turned onto his back, he slipped his arms beneath him, kissing him tenderly.

“I really do think I could get used to this.” He whispered almost to himself, nipping softly at Galion’s lips as he spoke. “My father will never stand for it, you know this. I can suffer his punishments, but I cannot bear the thought of him harming you.” He stated, instinctively tightening his arms around him as if to protect him.

“Your father is stubborn but he is not a fool.” Galion told him, drawing his fingers teasingly upward across his back. “He will do nothing to me, nor will he ever harm you again.”

Frowning deeply Thranduil leaned back slightly, staring at him silently for long moments. “You...knew?” He asked, his voice was barely above a whisper.

“When I would check on you in the evenings, sometimes I would see the marks he left.” Galion admitted, placing his hands gently on Thranduil’s cheeks as he pulled his face down to his own, kissing him softly.

Tangling his fingers in the long silvery blonde tresses, Galion pulled his face tighter to his as he kissed him searchingly. Driving his tongue deeply into his mouth, he savored the surrender he felt within him as Thranduil trembled in his arms. Releasing his mouth, Galion rolled over, and pushed him onto his back as he reached beneath the pillow for the small vial of oil.

“Ninëä gérion hîr.” (No, my little one). Galion told him quietly, shaking his head as he placed a hand firmly on his chest when Thranduil reached for him. Pushing his thighs apart, he settled himself between them.

Galion watched him in his peripheral vision as he poured some in the palm of his hand, applying it liberally to one finger. Grasping the shaft of his erection, he stroked him slowly as he slid his finger beneath his sack to easily find the small opening. Pressing slowly into him, he turned his hand palm upward, he searched for the small hard spot that would bring him pleasure. Smiling as he heard Thranduil’s sharp gasp when he touched it, he slowly massaged it in a circular motion.

“Just relax.” He told him quietly, feeling him tense as the muscles flexed against his finger, his mouth opened as he arched toward him.

“Oh!” Thranduil gasped as the slow gentle massaging sent jolts of pleasure through him, his fingers clutching the soft covers as his hips rocked instinctively forward in a rhythmic motion.

Leaning forward, Galion wrapped his lips around the crown of his sex, teasing the silken skin with the tip of his tongue as he gently sucked it into his mouth. Inserting a second finger, he slowly stretched him as he suckled him, smiling to himself as Thranduil’s groans took on the deeper telltale signs of urgency that told him he was close. Stroking him firmly, he inserted a third finger as Thranduil thrust forward, filling his mouth with his release.

Slipping upward as Thranduil turned on his side, Galion guided himself in place, pressing deeply into him in one firm motion as he captured his mouth in a hungry kiss. Thrusting into him in long deliberate strokes as he kissed him, driving his tongue deeply into his mouth. Groaning softly, his thrusts grew more demanding as he felt himself reaching his zenith. Spent, he relaxed against him, burying his face in his neck as he hugged him tightly.

Squirming free of him, Thranduil rolled onto his back, wrapping his arms around him as he pulled the covers over them. He felt the slight sting of tears in the backs of his eyes as his thoughts turned toward the whippings he father administered with the leather strap each time he only thought he had been with another ellyn (male elf). He had been vaguely aware of Galion’s visits to his rooms afterwards, but how had he known. He thought he had been so careful, yet he knew it was as much his own shame and humiliation as it was the need to conceal the physical signs of his torment.

“Adar! Please!” Thranduil screamed, arching against the pain as the leather strap fell hard again and again, leaving wide red swaths across the pale flesh of his backside. Hot tears of pain and humiliation streamed down his face as he strained against the silk ties that bound his wrists to the top of the bedpost.

Sitting bolt upright, Galion turned toward the whimpering sounds that had penetrated his sleep. Thranduil lay beside him, his body shivering, his breath coming in short gasps as the strangled sounds boiled in his throat.

“Oh dear Eru (God)!” He gasped, quickly wrapping his arms around him in an attempt to comfort him. “Thranduil! Wake up!” He exclaimed, his hold tightening around him as Thranduil arched against him then collapsed back onto the bed, his breath strained as he struggled to hide the tears.

“It was just a dream.” He told him quietly as he grabbed the corner of the blanket, wiping the tears from his face. “Just a dream.” He said again as he stretched out beside him, pulling him into his arms.

“Galion...”

“Shh.” He quieted him as he hugged him even tighter. “I am right here.” He told him, kissing his forehead. Frowning as he settled back into a comfortable embrace as Thranduil clung to him, curling himself tightly against him.

Morning came far too early for Thranduil as he reached out across the bunk, disappointed to find that Galion was already up and busily preparing everything for their departure.

“Lenwë has already gone ahead to inform King Amdír of your arrival. I have already taken the liberty of sending the guards ahead with our things.” Galion informed him, smiling as he turned to face him. “Faÿláën has remained however to ride with us.”

“How far is it?” Thranduil asked as he reluctantly crawled out of the surprisingly comfortable bunk.

“Maybe an hour.” Galion replied. “Now come, let’s get you dressed, Faÿláën is already with the mounts.” He told him as he picked up the cotton under tunic and handed it to him.

Trying not to think about the dream, Thranduil watched him from the edges of his vision as he helped him get dressed, there was nothing different about him other than his own awareness of the closeness of Galion’s body. The way his hands felt on his body as he smoothed out the silk of his riding clothes, tugging it gently to the proper fit while Thranduil fastened the row of small buttons down the front.

“Do you ever really sleep?” Thranduil asked jokingly, looking at his boots in Galion’s hand as he pulled out a small chair.

“I sleep just fine.” Galion informed him as he dropped down on one knee in front of him, assisting him with putting them on.

“Thranduil!” Galion gasped in surprise as the prince suddenly leaned forward, wrapping his arms around him as he pinioned him securely between his thighs.

“Galion.” Thranduil chuckled quietly, an almost childlike grin spreading over his face as he drew him in closer, their faces almost touching. He knew he should have ignored the urge but he wanted him to himself even if it was only for a few more minutes of privacy with him.

“Well, are you going to kiss me or just stare at me?” Galion asked, cocking his head slightly to the side, his happy green eyes dancing as a slight smile pulling at the corners of his lips.

Pulling him closer Thranduil kissed him softly at first, as if he were only tasting him, enjoying the feel of him in his arms. His fingers tangled themselves in the softness of his long dark tresses as Galion leaned against him, opening his mouth to him. Tightening his arms around him, his kiss grew hungrier as he thrust his tongue deeply, ravishing his mouth.

“We must go.” Galion whispered breathlessly as he finally wrenched his mouth free, pressing his cheek against Thranduil’s. 

“You are a hard taskmaster.” Thranduil groaned as he placed soft kisses on his neck before reluctantly releasing him.

Thranduil found himself relaxing somewhat as they rode silently along the well-worn trail that led from the vale to Lórinand. It had been far too long since he had been able to simply enjoy the scents, sounds and the feel of the forest. The spring breeze felt good on his skin, carrying with it a few unfamiliar but pleasant scents of flowers that did not grow in the Woodland Realm. They were quiet for the most part, each one seemed absorbed in their own thoughts as Anÿlläën had only broken the silence once to point out a beautiful waterfall, informing him that there were a number of them located throughout the forest.

Galion watched Thranduil with interest as they entered the deeper part of the forest near the center where the majority of the Sindar elves lived. Smiling to himself as he watched him pull on that protective cloak of indifference yet he could see the wonder in his eyes as he glanced upward at the tops of the towering trees. Clustered within the tall tree tops there appeared to be numerous dwellings of various sizes and shapes as well as other broad platforms that were all connected by a labyrinth of railed walkways and stairs that wound their way around and through the thicker trees of the forest as far as he could see.

“Some say it takes a little getting used to, but it is not as bad as it looks.” Anÿlläën said quietly, smiling in amusement as he guided his mount closer to the prince. “Your belongings have been taken to the guest quarters near King Amdír’s as he instructed. Unfortunately he is unavailable to greet you himself and sends his sincere apologies.”

“I must admit, I am more accustomed to having my feet firmly on the ground.” Thranduil replied, smiling nervously not quite sure how to react.

“Prince Thranduil!” A tall raven haired elf addressed him, smiling warmly as he approached them from beneath the trees. “I am Tóriôn, aid to King Amdír, welcome to Lórinand. Please, come with me and I will show you to rooms.”

“Anÿlläën will see to your mounts.” He added as he reached them. “I apologize that King Amdír is unable to greet you personally.”

“Thank you Tóriôn.” Thranduil replied, nodding to him as he dismounted, handing the reins to Faÿláën who had guided his mount closer to him.

“Come.” Tóriôn stated as he turned back toward the stairs. “Lenwë informed me that you arrived last evening. We do not get many visitors from the Woodland Realm, it is truly an honor to have you here.”

“Does everyone here chatter incessantly?” He asked silently to no one in particular yet he cast a glance back toward Galion who only smiled sheepishly.

Only half listening to Tóriôn as they ascended the stairs, Thranduil noted the manner in which they were built. It was almost like walking up a slanting hillside rather than actually climbing a set of stairs, the steps were very low and wide. Watching the elf at his side, he had never seen such dark raven hair before. It only accented the paleness of his fair skin but it was his silver eyes that fascinated him as they flickered over him as if appraising him in some manner. Thranduil found himself returning the gesture, letting his own gaze trail over him, noting his tall, slender frame and the fluid grace of his manner.

“Here we are.” Tóriôn stated as they reached a platform high enough that Thranduil chose not to look down at the moment. “King Amdír’s rooms are there.” He said, waving his hand toward the dwelling closest to the tree. “You and Galion will share this one.” He continued, waving his hand toward the dwelling on the outer edge of the platform opposite those of the King.

“I will leave you to get comfortable and hopefully I will see you at the midday meal.” Tóriôn said smiling as he glanced back and forth between the two, yet his gaze lingered on Thranduil. “Galion knows the way.” He said with a slight lilt of humor as he turned away from them.

“I think you have some explaining to do.” Thranduil said quietly, turning his attention to Galion as Tóriôn disappeared down the stairs.

“I really do not see what needs to be explained. I am familiar with Lenwë, I have no doubt he was quite talkative last evening.” Galion stated as he walked across the platform toward their rooms. “However.” He stated as he turned to face him when he reached the door. “Let it suffice that yes I do have ties to both the Woodland Realm and Lórinand, but my allegiance is to you.”

“You are full of surprises.” Thranduil told him silently, deciding not to press him any further on the matter. Galion had already proven himself to be far more than a dependable servant, even when he was not aware of it he had been there for him throughout all of Thranduil’s life, and he deserved the benefit of any doubts.

“After you.” Galion smiled as he opened the door for him.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

“I see what you mean.” Celeborn commented to Lenwë as he watched Thranduil from the safety of their perch on the platform above him. “I would agree, he is very much Háleärgiliäth’s son. I can see her stature and bearing in him as well.”

“I sensed her gentleness in him yet there is also strength.” Lenwë said quietly, a frown creasing his brow. “Unfortunately it is a strength borne of suffering.” He added, his voice held a note of anger that Celeborn had not heard in his friends’ voice for many years.

“Suffering?” Celeborn asked, turning his attention away from the young prince to meet the darkening gaze of his longtime friend. “What do you mean?”

“I spoke with Galion briefly this morning.” Lenwë sighed heavily then took a long drink from his wine glass. “The news from Oropher’s halls is not good.”

“This is unacceptable.” Celeborn stated, his voice barely concealed his own anger after hearing of Galion’s revelations. Oropher had always been known for his ridged and stubborn ways, yet the abuse seemed far more excessive than what he would have imagined even from him. “He has shown exceptional resilience.” He added, turning his attention back to the platform below them, watching as the young prince followed Galion into their quarters.

“Yes.” Lenwë nodded thoughtfully. “I do not know how but I sense there is still love in him for his father and gives him more respect than he deserves.”

“Oropher would do well to remember that while the oak tree does not have the will to bend, it is the sampling that can be ravished by the storm yet still stand tall.” Celeborn stated, his own brow furrowing in deep thought.

“Only now do I understand the strange message I received from Elrond.” Celeborn continued as he turned his attention back to Lenwë. “I am expecting his arrival. He spoke of a meeting with Lord Garävegión, an old friend of mine from Lindon.” 

“Elrond’s visits are normally later in the season.” Lenwë commented as he looked at his friend curiously.

“He is coming early because of Thranduil.” Celeborn said quietly, his gaze taking on an inward look once more. “Galadriel is not far behind him, she will want to speak with the young prince once she has settled. She will not be happy over these revelations.”

Suddenly Faiga appeared at the top of the steps drawing the attention of both of the older elves. There were no words spoken as the youthful elf simply looked solemnly at Lenwë and nodded before making a hasty retreat back down the stairs.

“My presence is needed back at the vale.” Lenwë stated as he rose to his feet, setting the wine glass on the table. “Perhaps we can meet at the inn tonight.” He stated, pausing for a moment as he turned toward the stairs.

“I look forward to it.” Celeborn replied, smiling as he watched him quickly disappear down the steps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments are always welcome!


	8. Chapter 8

 “You have eaten very little since we left your father’s halls.”  Galion stated as he walked toward the small table against the far wall.

“Right now I am not interested in food.”  Thranduil stated as he closed the door behind him and quickly cleared the distance between them.

“Thran...”

Forcing himself to relax against him as the prince pulled him into a fierce embrace, Galion surrendered to his hungry kiss. Clinging to the soft material of his riding tunic, he struggled for breath beneath the demanding mouth that now fully possessed his own.  Wincing slightly as he felt Thranduil’s fingers tangle themselves in his hair, tilting his head farther back as he released his mouth.

Leaning back slightly, Thranduil looked at him, letting his gaze travel slowly over his face as if he sought to commit every subtle nuance of it to memory.

“No more secrets.”  Thranduil said quietly, his lips so close yet not touching.  His clear sapphire eyes now clouding as he stared deeply into the darkening moss green gaze of the one person that he now realized knew him better than anyone.  “I cannot make you my equal in the eyes of my father but you will not serve me _Esh_ _ë_ _nîn níëvé_.” (Notes)

“I am honored.”  Galion told him, pulling back slightly narrowing his eyes slightly as he met his gaze evenly.  “However, serving you is my choice.”

“And sharing my bed?”  Thranduil asked, his arm tightened around him as he leaned closer, almost touching his lips.

“How dare you.”  Galion stated as he stiffened, making no effort to hide his anger at the insinuation.  “Trust me when I say I have never lacked for company.”

“You did not deserve that, _goheno n_ _în_.” (Forgive me) Thranduil groaned as he pressed his lips to his, kissing him tenderly.

“What is the matter with you?”  Galion asked quietly, pulling back from him as a deep frown creased his brow.

“I am going to need you now more than I ever did before.”  Thranduil said, reluctantly releasing him.  “Not just here, not just now.”  He added as he turned away from him toward one of the chairs at the table.

“I do not understand Thranduil.”  Galion said as he moved to help him with his boots.

“It is unsettling, the way they look at me.”  Thranduil said quietly as he gently pushed Galion’s hands away, removing his boots himself.  “I know these are your people.”  He added, narrowing his eyes, studying him as he looked up at him.

“My people?”  Galion laughed humorlessly, folding his arms across his chest as he stared at him, a slight sardonic smile curling his lips.  “Interesting.”

“They see you as a curiosity simply because of who you are.”  Galion continued when Thranduil only stared at him silently.  “Unlike the Woodland Realm whose borders are closed, this is a pass through for most but it is also a refuge for those who seek it.  You are likely to see any number of different elven people here as well as Westmen, Dwarves or whatever, that is how it is.”

“You know I do not agree with my father.”  Thranduil said quietly, pausing as if searching for the right words, his gaze flickering about the room.  “There was at least some sense of order, in most ways my father is predictable if he is nothing else, I knew what to expect.”

“A few days ago you thought all of this would be interesting.”  Galion said, studying him.  “What has changed?”

“Here I know nothing.”  He sighed heavily, looking up at him.  “I cannot escape this sense of being out of sorts.  It is like they are all waiting for me to fail.”

“That is your father talking.”  Galion stated, his gaze narrowing somewhat.  “You under estimate yourself.”  He continued, his voice softening as he took his chin in his hand, forcing him to look up at him.  “Now, whether you are hungry or not, I suggest we get you changed and at least make an appearance in the dining hall.”

Although the dwelling assigned to them was surprisingly larger than his private chambers within his father’s halls, Thranduil was not at all pleased with the lack of heated water for bathing.  The very idea of going to a public bath house was appalling to him, the fact that there were private rooms did little to calm him.  Large oaken barrels fixed to the outside of the dwellings collected and filtered rain water through a series of gutters along the roof tops provided enough tepid water for refreshing oneself but little more.

The recent change in their relationship had made him less aware of his nakedness in front of Galion, yet at the same time he found himself growing even more uncomfortable as Galion assisted him with getting dressed.  Until the last confrontation with his father the only servants permitted within his rooms were those who came to clean and when necessary to light the hearths before the evening meal to take the evening chill out of the air.  Galion frequently disobeyed that order, visiting him often when his fathers’ attentions were required elsewhere.  In some ways it was still a bit unsettling to him to learn that he had also visited him while he was sleeping.

Sitting in front of the small dressing table in the larger of the two bed chambers, he smiled to himself as Galion chattered on while he brushed out his hair.  He said nothing as the deft fingers made quick work of the intricate braids that he was not overly fond of yet he humored him in allowing him to weave them.

“Beautiful.”  Galion told him quietly as he met his gaze in the polished silvered glass.  “And yes, they will all be looking at you when you walk in.”  He teased, his green eyes sparkling as he patted his shoulders.

“You are enjoying this entirely too much.”  Thranduil stated, casting him a mock frown as he reached for the silver circlet.

Still not quite willing to acknowledge just how far up into the trees they were, Thranduil refused to look down and concentrated his attention on Galion as they descended the winding stairs to the forest floor.  While the number of trees were not nearly as thick as the Woodland Realm, the canopy of dense foliage at the tree tops and dwellings cast long shadows across the artfully laid stone pathways that wound their way around the trunks as well as sculpted fountains and stone grottos.

“There is someone I would like for you to meet.”  Galion said quietly, touching Thranduil’s elbow as he guided him toward a small spring fed fountain near the edge of the clearing.  “Her name is Gilaiwë, a close friend of my sister Minûiáliën.”

Steeling himself as they approached, Thranduil watched as the golden haired _elleth_ (elf maiden) rose from the raised stone ledge surrounding the pool beneath the fountain.  He was immediately struck by her near childlike appearance as she approached them, her long golden tresses hung freely nearly to her hips.  She was small, barely reaching Galion’s chin as the two embraced in a brief greeting.

“Gilaiwë.”  Galion greeted her warmly, kissing her forehead.  “It is so good to see you again.”  He added, giving her another gentle hug before releasing her.

“The northern woods have very much agreed with you.  You are looking well _melon nîn_.” (My friend) Gilaiwë commented as her dark blue eyes glanced quickly between the two of them, making Thranduil slightly uncomfortable.

“I knew you when you were very young.”  Gilaiwë said quietly, turning her full attention toward the prince as she took his hands. 

“I apologize.”  Thranduil nodded toward her, his gaze quickly flickered between the two of them.  “My memory is normally much better.”  Thranduil laughed softly in an effort to disguise his nervousness.  The uncomfortable feeling grew as her dark blue eyes stared boldly up at him, her lips curled slightly as her gaze roamed slowly over his face.

“You cannot remember me.”  Gilaiwë said, a slight lilt of laughter ringing in her voice.  “I was among the Sindar who traveled east a few years after your father.  Some of us chose to rejoin our relatives here in Lórinand, while others traveled into the northern wood.”

“We were on our way to the dining hall, perhaps you would be kind enough to join us.”  Galion commented, smiling to himself as he observed the unspoken communication between the two of them.

“I think I would enjoy that very much.”  Gilaiwë said, releasing Thranduil’s hands as she turned her attention to Galion.

Falling in step with Gilaiwë between them, Thranduil listened in silence to their conversation about Minûiáliën and the birth of her latest child.  Yet most of his attention was focused on the small _elleth_ (elf maiden) who gracefully matched their stride with little effort.  As he did with Lenwë, he sensed a great age about her in spite of her strangely youthful appearance.  There was a regal presence about her, yet there was also an eccentricity to her elegance that he found more than a little intriguing.

“Well, here we are.”  Galion stated as they reached a large two story building at the edge of a clearing.

The Lórinand dining hall was a separate structure that also served as an inn with sleeping rooms on the second floor, food and drink were provided at most any given hour.  This was necessary in order to accommodate the number of traders from Eregion and Khazad-dûm as well as other travelers through the lower regions of the Misty Mountains.  The main room was enormous, the atmosphere was warm and welcoming with two large stone hearths on opposite walls and a covered outdoor area in the back with more tables and chairs.  Several quick footed Wood elves scampered throughout, clearing away the plates, cups and goblets of those having already eaten as well as seating and serving those who continued to wander in.

“I prefer this later hour.”  Gilaiwë commented as they were led toward a table in the far corner opposite the main entry door.  “Most of the merchants, guards and forest patrols have already come and gone.”  She added as the Wood elf who escorted them to their table darted quickly away from them.

“Forgive me.”  Galion stated as he rose quickly, a slight frown creasing his brow as if he had just remembered something.  “I will be right back.”  He added with a polite nod as he turned and disappeared toward the door.

“Well.”  Gilaiwë laughed softly as she shook her head.  “It would appear something unexpected came up.”

“He does that.”  Thranduil sighed, smiling apologetically.  “Many of my father’s staff complain that he seems to have the uncanny ability to be everywhere at once.  I think it is only because he flitters about, never staying in one place very long. ”

“It is good to know that some things never change.”  Gilaiwë laughed as she relaxed back in the chair.  “I have known Galion and his family for many years.”

“Do you visit...?”  Thranduil paused for a moment.  “What do you call it?  The north wood?  Do you visit often?”  Watching her as she searched for her words, Thranduil found her more than intriguing, enjoying the musical sound of her laughter.

“Your father and I do not agree on many things.”  Gilaiwë said quietly, the somberness of her tone conflicting with the smile in her eyes as she openly studied him.  “But I will not disrespect him.”

“It would seem to me that incessant chatter with the avoidance of meaning is a conversational art amongst those of Lórinand.”  Thranduil commented quietly, a slight smile curled the corners of his lips as he returned her steady gaze.

“Touché Prince Thranduil.”  Gilaiwë laughed softly as she unconsciously lifted her small chin as if in defiance of his silent command for her to speak.

“I have found that directness is more favorable to appeasement.”  Thranduil replied as he smiled openly at her, finding himself actually enjoyed the challenge in her gaze.

“The answer to your question is no.  I do not visit as often as I would like.”  Gilaiwë said quietly as she continued to study him.  “Lórinand is my home now.  My visits are limited to only once a season when I travel to visit my family in the Grey Mountains in the North.”

They both fell silent as yet another Wood elf appeared with plates of fruits, nuts and cheese, with sweet breads and honey as their meal, along with a decanter of wine and two goblets.

“I think we have been abandoned.”  Gilaiwë commented as she observed the meal and the fact that only two plates and two goblets had been placed on the table.  “And this is different.”  She added, looking at their choices.

“Galions’ doing I am sure.”  Thranduil laughed, shaking his head as he scanned the contents of the plates.  “I do not eat meat except in honor of the Kings’ Hunt, the first hunt in autumn.”

“Be careful.”  She laughed, watching him fill their goblets from the decanter.  “Dwarvish wine can be stronger than their mead.  I prefer the much less sweet taste of the white wine from the vineyards of Gianduin.”  She told him as she accepted the goblet from him.

“Have you tried the darker red Dorwinion wine from the Sea of Rhûn?”  He asked as he filled his plate with only a small portion of each of the choices.

“Now that’s a heady wine _mellon nîn_!” (My friend) She laughed, her delicate brow rising slightly as she met his gaze.  “But much too sweet for me.”  She added, very much enjoying the slightly amorous look in his eyes.

Gilaiwë studied him as she turned the conversation toward Galion, noting the slight change in the young prince.  Still very pleasant and polite, his expression however became somewhat closed and guarded at the mention of the servant making her wonder at their relationship.  Regardless of his penchant for those of the same gender it was easy to see how Galion would be attracted to the beautiful young prince.

“ _Oh Háleärgiliäth, you would be so proud of him_.”  She thought with sadness, remembering the pain of watching her _fäë_ (soul) fade slowly in the days after Oropher had taken her son from her.  It was only her hatred for Oropher that Gilaiwë chose to travel east after her friend had made the choice to sail to _Aman_.  Unlike most of the others, she and a small group continued their long journey further south to the lands of their own people in Lórinand.  Oropher’s need to shut out the rest of the world had forced her to keep her distance from her friends’ only child.

~*~     ~*~     ~*~     ~*~     ~*~     ~*~

“You wanted to see me _hîr vuin_?” (My Lord)  Galion asked as quietly as he entered Elronds’ assigned quarters.

“Yes, come in Galion.”  The healer stated cheerfully as he quickly rose from the chair in front of the small hearth.  “Please, I am no lord.”  He chuckled, waving him over to him.  “Would you care for a cup of tea?”

“If it is no trouble.”  Galion replied cautiously as he joined him.  “Cinnamon spiced with a touch of hazelnut I would guess by the aroma.”  He ventured as Elrond turned toward the small teapot that hung on the hook near the flames.

“You know your teas.”  Elrond complimented him with a warm smile as he poured him a cup and refreshed his own.

“I dabble a bit in the healing arts.”  Galion admitted, feeling a slight blush staining his cheeks as he settled comfortably in one of the chairs.

“So I am told.”  Elrond said quietly, his soft gray eyes held much concern as he handed him a cup of the freshly brewed tea.  “Children are more likely to take their medicine if it is concealed by something sweet.”  He added, noting the servants’ discomfort.

“No offense my...”  Galion stammered a bit uncharacteristically for a moment before correcting himself.  “No offense intended Elrond but I do not believe you wanted to see me to discuss the benefits of tea.”  He stated more firmly, yet smiled warmly at the healer.

“Garävegión warned me that you had a tendency for being straightforward.”  Elrond stated, his features softened in his amusement yet the concern still filled his eyes as his gaze met the same in the eyes of the servant.  “If what I have been told is true, I will certainly appreciate that part of you.”  He added, the hardening of the servants’ gaze as he spoke told him it was the truth.

“It was very brave of you to challenge Oropher.”  He stated when Galion reminded silent, yet the guarded face told the healer much more than the servant would have guessed.  “I can assure you only of this.  Both you and Thranduil have far more allies with his halls than you are aware of.”

“There were those not in favor of the Greenwood becoming a monarchy at all.”  Galion stated, pausing to sip his tea.  “That feeling has spread greatly amongst the Silvan in the days since Oropher was crowned.  Personally, whatever troubles he had in Doriath, it would appear he has brought them with him.”

“Your insights serve you well.”  Elrond said quietly, his view of the servant changing.  “I can see why Garävegión recommended that I speak with you.  He speaks very highly of you.”

“I appreciate that.”  Galion replied, feeling his blush heat up a little more as he paused to sip his tea again.  “However, my concerns are solely for the well-being of the prince.”

“As they should be.”  Elrond stated, arching a brow at the vehemence in the servants’ tone.  “I assure you that you are not alone in this.  However, what you need to understand is this will be very difficult for Thranduil and you will have to be strong if he is to heal.”  He continued as he studied the demeanor of the servant.

“I will not break his trust.”  Galion stated pointedly, his chin lifting slightly.  “I will not pretend to understand what he feels inside but I am prepared to do whatever you ask to help him.”

“Unfortunately I have seen the damage that can be wrought upon those who have experienced what he has.”  Elrond said, again his tone was quiet, almost thoughtful as he gaze turned inward for long moments.  “His trust in you will be sorely tested if he is to come to terms with his past and become what he is meant to be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eshë nîn níëvé = my friend in the sense of a trusted ally who is also a lover yet not life mate


	9. Chapter 9

“I understand if it cannot be helped, however, I would appreciate Thranduil not be informed of this visit.”  Lord Garävegión stated emphatically as Lenwë entered the smaller, more private meeting room.

“I have not yet met with the prince.”  King Amdír said quietly as he leaned back comfortably in the soft worn chair.  “I admit I am concerned as to what is so important that you would arrive at my door on his heels and under the cover of darkness no less.”  He told him, not willing to agree to anything at this point.

“You must understand Lord Garävegión.”  He continued, pausing to accept the goblet of wine from Lenwë.  “Oropher already tests my patience in attempting to dictate his wishes regarding my stewardship of his son.  I shall hear what you have to say before I agree.  However, I must act in accordance with what I feel is best for the people of Lórinand.”

“Trust me when I say I respect your position.”  Lord Garävegión sighed heavily, more than a little uncomfortable.  “I am not here at the behest of my king.  Quite the contrary as I am aware of his true intentions and I am here of my own choice as I seek to dissuade you.  I do not believe it is in the best interest of either the prince or the future of the kingdom should you agree to Orophers’ foolish request of a betrothal at this time.”

“I assure you I have no intentions of honoring such a request.”  King Amdír replied adamantly, his blue gray eyes narrowing slightly.  “If Oropher seeks an alliance with Lórinand, it will not be thus.  There is much more you are not telling me.  I find your interest in this is curious.  Please enlighten me as to the source of these concerns.”  He continued, his tone softening somewhat yet his gaze challenged him.

“It was myself and the Lady Laurefindë who convinced Oropher to send the prince to you.”  Lord Garävegión stated cautiously.  “While information was too little too late, Thranduil needs to be permitted to come into his own person and he will not be able to do this under Orophers’ control.  We felt that it was in his best interests to come here for that purpose.”

“Lord Garävegión, you are far more the diplomat than your king.”  King Amdír chuckled as he leaned forward.  “I doubt very much that Oropher would have permitted his son to travel farther than here or to Imladris.  I know full well it is only his disdain for the Noldor that he agreed to put aside his dislike for me and send him here.  Even then I expect that he will summon him before the winter season.”

“It is time for the truth to come out.”  Lord Garävegión sighed, pausing to take a long drink from his goblet before turning his attention back to the king.  “It is on Thranduils’ behalf that I speak for myself and Lady Laurefindë who was a dear friend of his mother Háleärgiliäth.”  He paused again, noting the sudden change in the kings’ expression.

“I knew that her father had spoken to Oropher.”  King Amdír said quietly, almost to himself.  “He knew that I had asked for her hand as well.  The arrangement did not sit well with me as it was my understanding that he had committed himself to another.”  He added, his tone curious as he turned toward Lenwë, frowning slightly at the knowing look in his eyes.

“He was.”  Lord Garävegión stated, his courage rising as he noted the silent exchange between the two.  “Orophers’ true love was Cerályië, another _ellyn_...”

“You knew of this?!”  King Amdír exclaimed, interrupting him as his eyes widened in disbelief as he continued to stare at Lenwë.

“I think you need to listen to everything he has to say Amdír.”   Lenwë said quietly, casting a curious glance toward Lord Garävegión.  “I have already spoken with Galion.  He is with Elrond as we speak.”

“Then you understand the purpose of my visit.”  Lord Garävegión stated, his expression turning grim as he looked back at the king.  “Their liaison was not by any means ordinary even given the circumstances.  It was only after Háleärgiliäth became aware of the relationship between them and Orophers’ subsequent refusal to give him up...”

“You will need to explain the nature of this liaison.”  King Amdír interrupted him again as he rose to his feet and walked to one of the windows facing the forest.  “And please, spare me with this coddling, it is insulting.  I have never denied my feelings for her even to my own wife.”

“Oropher purchased him from a slave trader in Emyn Uial and kept him as a _bair-mûl_.” (House slave).”  He said quietly, glancing at Lenwë when the king said nothing, only bowing his head.  “Háleärgiliäth was unaware of the true nature of their relationship as he kept him hidden in a small village in the foothills of Ered Luin for many years.  It was only when Oropher brought him to Lindon that she discovered the truth.”

“Why did she not leave him then?”   King Amdír asked without moving.

“While she had no love for Oropher, she was committed to her vows and chose to forgive his transgressions if he would agree to commit only to her.”  Lord Garävegión explained, mindful of the kings’ feelings about the situation.  “Still Oropher refused, so she decided to take the child and flee Doriath.  Unfortunately, Oropher discovered her plan before she could leave and took the child there first and hid him from her.  When many Sindar decided to travel east, Oropher joined them in secret, taking Thranduil with him.”

“And Háleärgiliäth?”  King Amdír asked, lifting his head to stare out the window not sure he actually wanted to know.

“After a number of failed attempts by her father to recover the child she returned to the Grey Havens for a time but her heart was broken and she sailed west to the Undying Lands.”  Lord Garävegión informed him as gently as he could.

The silence in the room grew heavy as King Amdír allowed himself to remember his true love for the first time in many long years.  His time in Lindon had been short lived once his offer for her hand had been refused by her father.  It was one of the reasons he returned east and settled in Lórinand, it was far enough away to give him the distance he needed to rebuild his own life and hope that she had been able to find peace as well.

“Is Oropher a threat to her son?”  He asked, breaking the long silence.

“I have only recently received information that confirmed the suspicions long held by myself and Lady Laurefindë but were unable to prove.”  Lord Garävegión stated, pausing to finish the last of the wine in his goblet for more courage.  “We believe Oropher began abusing that child shortly after he managed to install himself as king...”

“And no one did anything?”  King Amdír asked as he turned to face them, his sharp features seemed to harden into an unreadable mask.

“We had no proof.”  Lord Garävegión stated defensively.  “Oropher rarely allowed the child out of his sight, going so far as to take him into his own bed chamber at night.  Whatever healer was treating the child, if there was one, was more than likely too frightened of Oropher to tell anyone.”

“And Galion?”  King Amdír asked, turning toward Lenwë.

“Thranduil was well into adulthood by the time he Oropher permitted him to have his own rooms.  Even then he allowed no personal servants to attend to him.  Galion was the only one willing to defy him.”  Lenwë stated, meeting the kings’ gaze.

“Oropher will not harm Galion.  He knows that Lady Laurefindë and I are aware of Cerályië and his transgressions with him.  I believe he will do everything in his power to keep that secret buried.”  Lord Garävegión stated firmly, his own expression hardening as he drew the kings’ attention.  “I must warn you, I agree with Laurefindë.  It is not so much Thranduil himself he is punishing, it is Háleärgiliäth.”

“You have yet to meet him Amdír.”  Lenwë said quietly, noting the confused expression on the king’ face as he turned to look at him again.  “He is unmistakably Háleärgiliäth’s son, he wears her face.”

~*~     ~*~     ~*~     ~*~     ~*~     ~*~ 

Standing silently at the railing of the platform between his assigned rooms and those of King Amdír, Thranduil enjoyed the warm breezes and subtle scents of the surrounding forest as he watched the milling elves below him.  The contrast between his home and Lórinand were both visible and tangible, as alluring as it was, he felt uncomfortable.  With the exception of the patrols who dressed in the same drab shades of green as the forest patrols of the Woodland Realm, the colorful scene below was reminiscent of a field of multicolored wildflowers swaying in a gentle summer breeze.  Time seemed to move differently here as he watched them stroll unhurriedly yet with purpose in their daily tasks.

“He has only been here for one day and already acquired a following.”  Celeborn chuckled as he observed the young prince from the platform between his own rooms and the guest rooms now occupied by Elrond.

“I can see why Lenwë described him as the jewel of the Woodland Realm, he truly is beautiful.”  Elrond mused, a smile touching his lips as he let his gaze roam freely over the tall slender young prince.  “I have not seen him since he was an infant.”

“Beautiful yes, but quite fragile.”  Celeborn stated almost to himself.  “He is as a sapling that has long been deprived of the sun.”

“His wounds run far deeper than that I’m afraid.”  Elrond sighed heavily as he continued to watch the young prince.  “If what Garävegión tells me is true, we must take care in guiding him toward himself.  Orophers’ hold on him is strong.  He will need to know whatever friendships are formed here will remain with him, he will not trust easily. ”

“Yes.”  Celeborn sighed heavily.  “This will be very difficult for him.”

“It may not be too late to repair the damage.  Lenwë said he sensed his mother in him and while his strength may have been borne of pain, I believe that is what will save him.”  Elrond stated as he turned to smile knowingly at his friend.  “Perhaps Oropher’s impetuousness can be used to right these past wrongs rather than to punish him.”

“You did set up the tea?”  Celeborn asked, a slow smile forming on his full lips.  “Remember, it will not take much, I doubt very much if he has even heard of it much less used it.’

“I am not sure I can handle it anymore!”  Elrond exclaimed, shaking his head.  “I don’t need it.”

“As much as I would love to join you, I think my presence would only serve to intimidate him.”  Celeborn said casting his friend a feigned forlorn glance belied only by the sparkle in his pale blue eyes.  “Galadriel will be returning soon.  I will speak with her of what we have learned.  She will want to see him and I think it would be best if he believes he has an ally in you.”

Nodding toward him, Elrond turned away from him and made his way along the walkway toward the young prince who seemed completely enthralled with the view below.  Strolling toward him, Elrond struggled to suppress the anger he felt toward Oropher.  He had last seen Háleärgiliäth in Doriath in the weeks after Oropher had taken him, it was a memory he had long suppressed.  Choosing instead to remember her during her time in Lindon, already uncommonly beautiful to begin with, he had never seen her more radiant and full of life as she was with her infant son in her arms. 

“Prince Thranduil!”  He exclaimed, smiling broadly as he stepped out onto the platform.  “I am so pleased to see you!”

Although he had been watching him from the short distance, Elrond was unprepared when the prince turned to face him.  The resemblance to his mother was quite unsettling as he approached him.  He was more than beautiful, but it was his eyes that captured his attention immediately.  The deep blue of his outer robes enhanced the clear sapphire that glittered with pure star light from their depths.

“I am Elrond.  I heard you were coming.”  He introduced himself and wrapped his arms around him in a warm greeting.  “I knew your parents many years ago in Doriath.”  He continued as he released him, letting his gaze trail openly over his face. “Don’t worry, you would not remember me, you were too young.”

Thranduil did not know what to expect when Galion told him about Elrond, but the elf who stood before him was not what he would have anticipated.  He was shorter than himself, with very dark brown hair and soft silver gray eyes that seemed to smile as warmly as the smile on his lips.  The sculptured masculine features of the ageless face was softened somewhat by the comforting aura that emanated from him.  His voice was deceptively deep for his slender build yet it was almost musical.

“I have no memories before the journey.”  Thranduil admitted, albeit reluctantly.  “My father appears to be quite memorable it seems.”  He paused, a little hesitant as he caught the healers gaze. “So few remember my mother.”

“I only met her a few times, her name was Háleärgiliäth.”  Elrond said quietly, choosing not to reveal too much too soon as he moved to stand beside him, grasping the railing of the walkway.  “She was exceptionally beautiful.  You favor her greatly.”  He added, turning to smile at the young prince who now studied him inquiringly.  “She had a very strong interest in the healing arts and was very helpful to me with some of my studies.”

 “I have no memory of her.”  Thranduil said quietly as his gaze dropped downward slightly as if he struggled to recall something, then he suddenly turned away from him to grasp the railing once more.

“I find Lórinand to be fascinating.”  He stated, changing the subject abruptly.  “In some ways it feels like I am in a dream.”  He said, his eyes widening in excitement as he flashed a big smile at Elrond, completely unaware of its effect.

“ _Oh Eru (God), I am in trouble_.”  Elrond sighed inwardly as a sweet near childlike innocence radiated from the prince’s face.  Standing so close to him, Elrond could also feel the strong pull of the seductive charm that emanated from him.

“Yes.”  Elrond chuckled as he looked away from him, clamping down on the stray thoughts.  “I try to visit at least once a season during the milder periods, I find it can be very relaxing here.”

“I love the openness of everything.”  Thranduil continued, his enthusiasm unabated.  “I would never have imaged actually living in the trees!”  He grinned, his eyes sparkling as he looked around at all the dwellings that were built at different levels around the enormous tree trunks.  “It is like living with nature in a home where there are no walls.”

“I suppose so!”  Elrond laughed deeply at the comment.  “I have never heard it described quite that way before but I can see how it could look that way to someone seeing it for the first time.”

“I was not so sure when I first saw it from the ground.”  Thranduil laughed, his eyes widening again as he turned to look at Elrond.  “I was concerned about the wind.”

“The trees of Lórinand are strong with deep roots.”  Elrond said, smiling as he turned his gaze upward toward the leafy canopy.  “I believe the height of the Vellanräé trees are second only to the Malinornë

“I have heard of the Malinornë trees.”  Thranduil said, eagerness to learn more shone brightly in the depths of his eyes as if imploring him for more information. “I think I have read nearly every book in my father’s library.”  He laughed almost to himself as he turned his gaze back toward the distant forest.  “There is very little about Lórinand in there.”

“Would you care to join me for tea so we can talk more?”  Elrond asked, tilting his head sideways with a soft smile.  “Or do you have other plans?”

Thranduil laughed softly as he turned to face him, his eyes dancing as he looked at him.  “Since Galion departed early this morning, I find myself at a loss.  I think I would enjoy the company.”

“Please.”  Elrond smiled, gesturing toward the walkway at the far end of the platform.  “He has many friends here in Lórinand mostly in the vales where the majority of the Wood elves make their homes.”  He continued as they strolled across the platform.

“Galion has proven very knowledgeable about Lórinand.”  Thranduil commented as they reached the walkway that wound its way through the upper branches of the tree.

“He was born here and still has family in the vales.”  Elrond said quietly.  “I think you will do quite well at finding ways to fill your time without Galion.”  He laughed softly, enjoying the way Thranduil’s gaze flickered over him briefly before he closed himself off again.

Elrond continued to study him as they made their way toward his rooms, telling him more of the history of Lórinand and the development of the distinctive culture of the people that lived there.  It was difficult to read anything past the thick walls the prince had built up around himself.  It had been many years since Elrond had seen one so skilled in controlling their emotions, a quality that he found disturbing in one so young and inexperienced in life.

“I have not decided whether it is a good thing or a bad thing.”  Thranduil ventured cautiously as they reached the platform leading to Elronds’ rooms.  “There seems to be no structure here.  I must admit that it makes me feel out of sorts so to speak.”  He admitted reluctantly as Elrond opened the door to his rooms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for Reading! Comments are always welcome!


	10. Chapter 10

“Please, make yourself comfortable.”  Elrond said quietly, waving his hand toward the large open sitting area as he pulled the door closed behind them.  “You have only just arrived and have not yet had the chance to see how things work here.  King Amdír does not follow the customary formalities of most nobles or palace courts.”

“As I’m sure Galion has already explained, Lórinand is different, rather unique actually.”  Elrond continued as he went into the small kitchen area to collect their cups.  “The Nandor were the first inhabitants of the vales while the Wood elves occupied the surrounding forests.  Lórinand as a city came to be only because of the number of both Sindar and Noldor who sought refuge after the second Kinslaying near the end of the First Age.”  He said as he returned to the sitting area, pouring him a cup of the herbal tea and a cup of the regular tea for himself.

“My father has told me of the Kinslaying and the Noldor.” Thranduil commented, watching him intently as the older elf seated himself in a chair opposite him.

“It is no secret, I am aware that Oropher holds a high degree of disdain for them.”  Elrond stated, returning the same guarded but observant gaze.  “In truth I myself am of Noldor heritage yet I am only half elven.  My mother fell in love with a man, they eventually married and she bore him twins, myself and my brother Elros.  Here in Lórinand one is not judged by the past acts of their forbearers or by their heritage.  We are all the children of _Eru_ (God) and we acknowledge that we have all been blessed with free will to choose the paths we will follow.”

Studying him, Elrond saw for the first time the storm that erupted within the depths of those beautiful eyes that stared back at him.  Smiling to himself as he noted the complete change in the young princes’ expression, only the slightest narrowing of his eyes and the subtle shift in his jaw spoke volumes of distrust yet his eyes seemed filled with unanswered questions.

“ _At least now I know how to get under your skin_.”  Elrond told him silently, smiling to himself as he recalled the meeting in the vale the previous evening.  Unaware that his comment regarding the right of free will had renewed his anger toward his father as the young prince recalled his conversation with Galion not that long ago. 

“It is that right of free will that brings many here to experience the Solitara.”  Elrond continued, choosing to change the subject.

“The Solitara?”  Thranduil asked, a slight frown creasing his brow as he studied the older elf from over the rim of his teacup.

“It is the elven ritual of self-seeking.”  Elrond stated, smiling as he met the princes’ gaze evenly.  “It normally occurs the first time when an elf reaches adulthood.  It is only then that one can truly look within oneself and be objective in self-criticism.”

“The first time?”  Thranduil asked curiously, his interest was fully peaked.  This was something he had never heard of or read about in any of the books in his fathers’ library.

“There are different things that happen in our lives that cause us to question ourselves, who we are, even the world around us.”  Elrond began as he rose to refill their cups.  “These questions are the result of how we understand and feel about those things.  Like yourself for example, you are out of sorts as you put it because you do not see structure here.  I find it more than interesting that you spoke of this feeling as neither good nor bad instead of right or wrong.  It demonstrates an insightfully reasoned approach to something new rather than an impulsive rejection of something simply because it is different.”

“I do not...”  Thranduil paused, struggling as much for the right words as for how much he was willing to reveal about himself.  “I cannot judge what is right or wrong for others.”  He stated after long moments.

“You have an interesting grasp on the right of free will.”  Elrond commented, smiling warmly at him.  “As with all things there must be balance.  Free will must be tempered with the rule that it harm none.”

“It’s not just a simple matter of physical harm.”  Elrond continued as he noted the contemplative expression on the prince’s face.  “Harm can be caused in many ways such as breaking an oath, using coercion to control someone or doing something intentionally to cause some form of pain to someone else.  These things will happen from time to time and there is nothing we can do about it.  The key is to be mindful of the words we choose and how we treat others.”

“I do not think that is possible.”  Thranduil said quietly as if he spoke out loud to himself.  “My father tells me that I must learn to make decisions that are for the future of the kingdom.  The personal feelings of the subjects are outweighed by that of the kingdom as a whole.  How is this rule possible when there are so many differences?”  He asked as he leaned forward, studying the older elf intently.

“Your father is right, as a ruler decisions must be made that have consequences for a few in order to serve the greater good of the many.”  Elrond replied, smiling to himself at the turn in the conversation.  It would be easier to gain his trust if he did not feel that everyone was against his father.  “It has been said that the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.  This is the balance that must be sought by a good ruler.”

“Let me ask you something.”  Elrond said as he rose to his feet, easily clearing the short distance between them, knowing the tea should have worked by now.  Extending his hand toward him, he assisted him to his feet.  “There is no right or wrong answer, no expectation.”  He said quietly, smiling as he drew him close enough to feel his warm breath on his lips.  “It is your right to refuse.  You will not hurt my feelings if you say no.”  He whispered, brushing his lips with his own as he spoke.

“ _Oh Eru!_ ” (God)  Thranduil groaned inwardly, moving his lips out of reach as he tilted his head downward pressing his forehead against the healers.  Closing his eyes against the myriad of emotions that washed over him as the desire burned inside him, he struggled for control.

“I am flattered.”  Thranduil said quietly as he lifted his head, searching deeply into the soft gray eyes.  “But I cannot.”  He added, his voice was barely above a whisper.

“There is nothing to be sorry for.”  Elrond said softly, cupping his face in his hands as his eyes flickered slowly over his beauty.  “I told you, there is no expectation, no right or wrong answer.”  He told him as he pressed his lips to his for a fleeting but tender kiss.

“Thranduil.”  Elrond said quietly, stopping him as the young prince turned away.  “Contrary to what you may think, you are a guest here, not a prisoner.  You are among friends.  My door is always open to you, even if all wish is to talk.”

“Thank you.”  Thranduil smiled warmly as he paused for long moments, wondering what and how much the healer already knew.  “Another time then.”  He added as he nodded in respect to the older elf before turning away from him.

Shaken to his core as he walked across the platform toward the stairs that would take him down to the forest floor, Thranduil could think of nothing but escaping into the safety of the forest.  He had no idea whether Galion had returned, yet at that moment he knew he was not fit company for anyone.  Smiling politely and nodding to those that passed him, their faces blurred into countless reflections in his mind as he made his way toward the edge of the forest and into a small glade he had found in his wanderings the previous day.

Climbing up onto the upper most ledge, he folded his long legs beneath him and stared off into the darkness of the forest.  It was not the familiar oaks, ash, and walnut trees of his woodland home, yet he could smell the soothing scent of the distant pines that grew deeper in the forest.  Closing his eyes, sitting there silently he tried to think of nothing, just listening to the soft voices of the forest as the gentle evening breezes cooled his overly heated skin.

“I thought I was the only one who enjoyed solitude.”  Amdír said quietly as he approached the solitary figure perched on the rock outcropping in the glade.

“Solitude is little more than a perception I am afraid.”  Thranduil replied, smiling at the tall golden haired elf that approached him.  “I do not believe one is ever truly alone, especially in a forest.”

Studying him, Thranduil tried to recall if they had been introduced, there were so many faces, yet this one escaped him at the moment.  Dressed in casual robes similar to those worn by many of the elves Lórinand, there was nothing about him that stood out that would give him any clue as to his name.

“ _He wears her face_.”  Lenwës’ words were as haunting as he gazed at the face that looked so innocently at him.  Amdír felt as if the ground had shifted beneath his feet as he peered into the spray of pure star light that sparkled against a sapphire sky.  Illuminated in the eerie glow of the rising moon, his pale silvery golden hair appeared as pure silver framing his beautiful face and spilling over his shoulders and down his back.  It was as if Háleärgiliäth herself smiled at him.

“The forest is quiet in the evening.”  Amdír said softly, shaking himself as he climbed up onto the rock to sit beside the young prince.

“Oh, she is never truly quiet.”  Thranduil grinned, casting the elf an impish glance.  “It only seems that way because there are different, more subtle voices in the evening.  If you listen closely you can hear the forest herself when she speaks.”

“You have a very unique awareness to the forest.”  Amdír commented, watching him on the edge of his vision, unwilling to look directly at him for the moment as her memory was far more painful than he realized.

“Again, it is merely a perception.”  Thranduil laughed softly, almost to himself as he continued to gaze out into the darkness beyond the trees.  “But then, she only speaks to those willing to listen.”

“You seem to have much on your mind.  Hopefully you will find some answers here.”  Amdír said quietly as climbed down from his perch beside him.  “Others return here from time to time for the same reasons.  We will talk again, for now I will leave you to your thoughts.”

Frowning deeply as he walked away from him, Amdír found himself remembering his previous life in Lindon and her, Háleärgiliäth.  He had known little about Oropher at the time beyond who he was and that her father had arranged the marriage.  Amdír remembered well how the light in her eyes had somehow diminished at the prospect yet she would not go against her fathers’ wishes.  No, he would not be the cause of the same in her son.

His thoughts turned to the enormity of the situation in which he found himself with his northern and closest potential ally.  Unlike the Woodland Realm whose borders were closed, Lórinand enjoyed the advantage of an ephemeral population that brought a continual influx of news from lands as far away as Lindon. While he understood the proposal from King Oropher, an alliance between the two kingdoms would be advantageous, yet there were other things that must also be taken in consideration.  It was an alliance that could not be forged through an arranged marriage, even if it were within his power or desire to do so.

“He carries a heavy burden for one so young.”  He commented quietly as he joined Celeborn and Elrond beneath the now deserted canopy just beyond the dining hall.  “What Oropher seeks from me, I cannot in good conscience support.”

“Strong friendships have forged strong alliances as well.”  Celeborn stated, almost to himself as Amdír sank heavily into one of the soft cushions beside him.  “Thranduil will come into his own person in time but that time is not now.”

“I would agree.”  Amdír nodded.  “And what of you Elrond?  What are your thoughts?”  He asked, turning his attention to the healer.

“Oropher’s hold over him is strong.”  Elrond stated, a deep frown forming as his gaze turned inward.  “Yet I cannot help but to believe the true power of the Woodland Realm lies within the stronger of the two.”

“What do you see?”  Celeborn asked, concern radiating from his expression as he leaned forward.

“You know visions are ambiguous at best and I have not seen Oropher for many years.”  Elrond reminded him, shaking his head.  “While there is still love within him for his father, the bough has already been broken by Oropher’s own hand.  Strength is not always measured in might but in resilience as well.  I believe the future of the Woodland Realm now rests with Thranduil.”

“Then we must seek to align ourselves with the prince.”  Amdír stated thoughtfully.  “I will see him tomorrow and offer Lórinand as a safe haven for him.”

“He has a quick wit about him and will not take kindly to what he may view as having been tricked.”  Elrond said with a slight smile.  “You will need to explain your meeting tonight.”  He added, turning his attention to the king.

“I think I can get around that.” Amdír laughed softly, his blue eyes dancing with a little mischief.  “Once he has been informed of his father’s intentions and my decision.  That alone can work toward forming an alliance of friendship at the very least.”

Turning their attention in the direction Elrond had nodded, the three of them watched quietly as Thranduil emerged from the forest.  The young prince walked into the soft glow of the many lanterns, moving deliberately yet gracefully toward the stairs that would lead him to his assigned quarters.  Although his carefully schooled expression revealed nothing of his thoughts, there was a determination in his carriage that spoke volumes to the three observers.

Closing the door behind him Thranduil leaned heavily against it, standing there in the darkness for long moments struggling to quiet his thoughts.  On the surface there seemed little difference between Lórinand and his home in the Woodland Realm, yet there was an undercurrent to the peaceful golden forest that intrigued and yet frightened him.  There was a part of him that longed for the quiet stability of the structured life his father had enforced upon him for as long as he could remember.  At least he knew the rules, he understood the order of things whether he agreed with them or not.

Sighing heavily he pushed himself away from the door and set about lighting a few of the small lanterns in the sitting room.  The silence within the rooms felt odd, eerily uncomfortable to him as he had grown quite accustomed to Galion’s constant chatter.  The warmth of his slender body cuddled so tightly against him felt more than comforting.  A slight smile curled his lips as he remembered their evening in the Vale and wondered about other intimate secrets he kept hidden. 

Reluctantly his thoughts turned to his father as he undressed, laying the robes over a small chair in the corner of the room.  Thranduil found it both ironic and amusing that his father had sent him here to punish him, if subtle glances and coy smiles told him anything, he was not alone in his desires.  Although Galion had tried to convince him that they were only looking at him as a curiosity because of who he was, he was not so sure, especially after his meeting with the healer.

Elrond had been quite clear in expressing his desires, something that was enjoyable yet again he found himself afraid.  A slight frown creased his brow as he thought of the feelings the healer had invoked within him.   It was the first time he found himself not only attracted to someone he had only just met, but was also aroused by them.  His warm lips were soft and inviting as he kissed him in that brief moment shared between them.  There was a part of him that wondered why he had turned away from him.

Still far more aroused for his comfort, his thoughts turned to Galion as he wondered where he had gone.  The newly discovered knowledge of his talents beyond merely a personal servant had proven quite interesting and he wanted more.  Double checking to insure the small vial of oil was within reach, he smiled as he turned down the covers and slipped into the bed.  Stretching out, Thranduil felt a little guilty as he luxuriated in the softness of the cover against his nakedness, a comfort he had been severely punished for years ago.  But he refused to dwell on those thoughts, it would be something he would have to deal with when he returned.

Instead he lay quietly, his thoughts returning to Galion and how their newfound intimacy had changed things between them.  It would be difficult once they returned to his father’s halls.  He knew he would suffer punishment but the thought that he could and probably would banish Galion was something that caused him great concern.  Recent events had served to renew the strong attachment he had with the older elf and he didn’t want to even imagine his life without him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for reading! Comments are always welcome!


	11. Chapter 11

Carefully opening the door, Galion wondered how Elrond had fared in his attempt to seduce the young prince.  Glancing about the sitting room there was nothing amiss save for the low burning lamps, a sign that the prince had returned to their quarters.  Turning all of them out save for one, he picked it up and headed back toward the larger room they decided to share.

Entering the room he smiled mischievously as the soft glow of the lantern clearly illuminated the full view of the naked prince laying sprawled out on the bed, the cover kicked down around his feet.  Shaking his head, he set the lamp on the small chest of drawers just inside the door and set about undressing.  

“Thran...!” 

Quickly silenced as he was unceremoniously pulled into the bed, his words stifled as Thranduil captured his mouth, ravishing it hungrily.  Struggling for breath as he felt the weight of the more muscular body pinioning him to the bed, the hard length of his erection pressing firmly against his inner thigh as Thranduil used his knee to spread his thighs.

“Stop!”  Galion exclaimed breathlessly as he shoved hard against him.  “What is wrong with you?!”  He demanded as he stared up into the startled face of the prince.

“Goheno nin.” (Forgive me)  Thranduil nearly sobbed as he buried his face in Galions’ neck.  “I need you so much!”  He groaned, clinging to him as if his life depended on it.

“Shh.”  Galion soothed him, caressing his back softly.  Frowning as he held the trembling body close to him, he knew he would need to have a word with Elrond.  Unfortunately he was now left with having to come up with an explanation that would not break whatever trust the healer had managed to establish with the prince.

“Did you visit with Elrond today?”  He asked quietly, his arms closing more tightly around the princes’ slender waist.

“Yes, why?”  Thranduil replied, pulling back only far enough to search his face.

“He served you tea didn’t he?”  He stated more than asked, arching a brow as he met Thranduils’ gaze evenly.

“Yes.”  He said, drawing the word out as his eyes narrowed angrily.

“You also requested Dorwinion wine with your midday meal didn’t you?”  Galion said in a matter of fact tone as a smile spread slowly across his face.

“Elrond very much enjoys his herbal teas.”  He told him when Thranduil said nothing, reaching up to caress his cheeks softly.  “Since the two of you have never met before, it would have been very much like him to try to help you relax and feel comfortable with him.  Unfortunately, there are certain herbal teas that can cause arousal when mixed with such a strong wine.”

“He is a kings’ personal healer.  Would he not know that?”  Thranduil stated, a frown deepening on his brow as he continued to stare angrily at him.

“Yes he would.”  Galion chuckled, running his fingertips across the frown on the princes’ brow.  “But how would he have known what wine you drank?”  He added, arching a brow at him.

“Still.”  Thranduil paused, searching Galions’ face for long moments.  “I think he perhaps hoped for more than just conversation.”  He said quietly, peering deeply into the gentle green eyes that smiled up at him as he kissed him softly.

“As do quite a few others.”  Galion chuckled, running his fingertips teasingly over his lower back as he smiled up at him.

“I have you, I do not need anyone else.”  He stated, his lips teasing Galions’ as he spoke.

“I want you to discover for yourself what you want.”  Galion told him quietly.  “Shush!”  He stated firmly when Thranduil opened his mouth to speak, smiling softly to take the sting from his tone.  “You must listen to me Thranduil.  In time we will return to your fathers’ halls but I will always be with you.  One day...”  He paused to press a gentle finger to Thranduils’ lips.  “One day you will marry as it should be.  You are the sole heir to the throne of the largest elven kingdom in Middle Earth, it is the way it must be.”

“I do not want to be a King.”  Thranduil stated, his eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“Oh _pirá neth nîn_.” (My little one)  Galion sighed softly as he pulled his face down to his, kissing him tenderly.  “It is your destiny but that time is far away.  Until that time comes, you need to experience life and learn who you are and what you want.”

Thranduil stared at him in silence for a long time, his mind racing as many thoughts tumbled chaotically over each other.  Different emotions washed over him, trembling with anger as he thought of his father, realizing that Galion was right.  Deep in his heart, he had always known that what he did to him was wrong.  It was not just the things he did in private but sequestering him away from everyone, stifling and controlling him, molding him into what he wanted rather than allow him to grow into who he was meant to be.

“I will do as you ask.”  He said quietly, smiling softly.

“No.”  Galion stated, arching a brow.  “You will do what you want, what feels right to you.  You have your own mind Thranduil, use it.”

“You do not give up do you?”  Thranduil laughed as he hugged him tighter.

“I will never give up on you.”  Galion told him as he captured his mouth in a long searching kiss, thoroughly enjoying the soft groans that boiled in Thranduils’ throat.

Much of his earlier urgency having subsided, Thranduil slipped his arms beneath his shoulders, cradling his head in his hands as he surrendered his mouth to the kiss.  Thrusting his tongue into the warmth of his willing mouth, he felt the tightening within his groin as their tongues joined, teasing each other almost playfully.  Trembling as Galions’ fingertips traced teasing patterns over his hips, raking across the flesh of the firm mounds of his backside.

Eager yet in no hurry, he released his mouth, trailing his kisses down his neck and chest to capture a tiny nipple in his mouth.  Flicking it briefly with his tongue before moving lower, toward the hollow just below his hip next to his groin.

“Ahh!”  Galion gasped, threading his fingers into the softness of Thranduils’ hair as he squirmed, trying to close his thighs as the teasing tongue sent shivers through him.

Chuckling silently to himself, Thranduil trailed his kisses to the other side, carefully avoiding any contact with his erection.  Enjoying the sounds of his groans and the feel of his struggling body, he took his time pleasuring him.  Slowly trailing his tongue upward along the underside of his erection, he wrapped his lips around the silken head, suckling gently as he teased the tiny slit with the tip of his tongue.  Releasing him as the salty taste of his arousal fluids slathered his tongue, he moved upward over him, reaching for the vile of oil he had stowed behind the books in the headboard.

Settling back down beside him, he poured some of it in his hand, coating the fingers of his other hand liberally.  Returning his attention to his swollen sex, teasing him with his mouth as he absently stroked himself, his oiled fingers gently massaging his entrance before slipping past the tight muscle.  Pressing deeply into him, he sought the small spot, massaging it as he slowly worked in the second then the third finger to prepare him.  Swallowing the length of him as his groans intensified, he buried his face against the silken skin of Galions’ lower belly.  Suckling in earnest as he felt him stiffen, thrusting forward as his release overcame him.

“I think I could make love to you all night.”  He told him as he moved up to lay behind him as Galion rolled onto his side, capturing his mouth in a gentle but searching kiss as Galion twisted his head around toward him.  Guiding himself in place, burying himself deeply within the tight sheath in one firm thrust, grinding his hips against him as his kiss turned hungry.

“I love the way you feel.”  He groaned softly as he turned his kisses to the softer flesh of his neck.  “The way you smell, the way you taste.”  He whispered as he trailed his kisses over his face and back to his mouth, ravishing it as his thrusts grew harder, more demanding.

“Oh God!”  He exclaimed as he pulled back far enough to look into his eyes as he continued to drive himself into him in quick impatient thrusts.  Clenching his jaws, he thrust forward, burying himself deeply within him as he felt the tension break and his release filling him in strong hot spurts.

Wrapping his arms around him as he collapsed next to him.  Galion smiled as he rolled over to face him, softly caressed his back.  Closing his eyes, he listened to the sound of his racing heartbeat and quicken breaths as he slowly relaxed.

~*~     ~*~     ~*~     ~*~     ~*~     ~*~

“What are you smiling about?”  Thranduil asked, blinking as he struggled up out of a deep sleep to see Galion’s face smiling intently at him.

“You.”  Galion chuckled as he leaned down, kissing his lips softly.

“Mmmm.”  Thranduil returned the kiss as he pulled him on top of him.  “I can definitely get used to this.”  He laughed, running his hands down his back, massaging the rounded mounds of his backside.

“You have a meeting with King Amdír following the morning meal.”  Galion told him as he kissed his chin softly.  “I heard voices outside earlier.  I’m sure he is already in the dining hall.”

“I think I would rather stay right here.”  Thranduil grinned as he arched a brow, squeezing his backside.

“As appealing as that may be, you have obligations.”  Galion told him sternly, a slight smile curling his lips.

Groaning in reluctance, he clasped Galion’s head firmly in his hands drawing his face toward him as he captured his mouth in a hungry demanding kiss.  Thrusting his tongue deeply, he delighted in the taste of him.

“Do not make any plans for this evening.”  Thranduil told him, his lips brushing his as he spoke.  “I would like nothing more than the peace and quiet of our rooms this evening.”  He breathed, his eyes narrowing as he kissed him hard this time as if he wanted to brand him for his own.

They were silent as they prepared for the day, each one seemed caught up in their own thoughts about the recent change between them.  Sharing only lingering glances and soft smiles as Galion assisted him in getting dressed, choosing the deep forest green outer robe and a lighter pale green under robe.  He took his time brushing out the prince’s long silvery tresses, reluctantly he left it free and unadorned as was Thranduil’s preference.

“Shall we?”  Thranduil grinned at him as they finished with their morning routine.  “What?”  He added, tilting his head to the side as he arched a brow at him when Galion only paused to stare curiously at him.

“Normally you are dragging your feet as if I’m forcing you to go and now you are rushing me?”  Galion stated arching a brow back at him.

“Maybe I’m actually hungry for something besides you for once.”  Thranduil stated grinning at him as he pulled him into his arms.

“Hmm.”  Galion grinned as he shook his head at him.  “We shall see.”

Feeling more confident in himself as they entered the dining hall, Thranduil ignored the glances and even a few open stares as they were led to a small table near the stone hearth opposite the long bar.  A little more crowded than when they normally arrived, it felt a lot more like his fathers’ dining hall with the buzz and hum of many voices and different conversations going on all at once.

 “At least he looks much more relaxed.”  Amdír commented as he observed the young prince and his personal aid from across the crowded room.

“I would say he looks more comfortable with himself.”  Elrond commented absently, watching the interaction between the two.  He had only just met Galion yet he had learned enough about the young prince to see there was a very close bond between them, one that went far beyond that of noble and servant.

“I’m surprised Galion even lets him out of his sight.”  Amdír said quietly as he summoned a nearby elf to refill their teacups.

“Oh he always knows exactly where the prince is.”  Lenwë chuckled, leaning back against the cushion as he glanced toward the main door to see Celeborn enter.

“Galion is not Silvan at least not entirely.”  Lenwë told Elrond, noting to the questioning look as he turned to look at him.  “As I told you before, he is originally from Lórinand but traveled north around the end of the First Age.”

“I have only just met him.” Elrond replied, more as a statement.  “I take it you know him fairly well?”  He asked curiously.

“Very well, but more importantly Thranduil knows and trusts him.”  Lenwë stated as he nodded toward Celeborn who had just joined them.  “To him, Galion has been everything Oropher never was.”

“That explains a lot.”  Celeborn stated as he seated himself in the empty seat between Amdír and Elrond.  “He blends in very well as he shadows the prince everywhere.”

“I think he is watching his escorts more than Thranduil.”  Amdír said, lifting his chin toward the far wall where three of the guards’ interests in the prince appeared much more than a casual observance.

“It is not surprising since Oropher has a great dislike for the Noldor.”  Elrond sighed heavily, nodding as Amdír offered to refill his cup.  “He only chose Lórinand for its close proximity to the Woodland Realm.  I do not think he would allow Thranduil to get too far from his grasp.”

“I am beginning to think the young prince is in far more need of an alliance with us than his father.”  Amdír said quietly, his eyes narrowing as he glanced back and forth between the guards in the corner and the prince.

“Shall we?”  Amdír arched a brow as he rose to his feet.  “Elrond, would you let the prince know I would like to speak with him shortly?”

“As you wish.”  Elrond nodded.  “We will be along shortly.”

“ _I think you may be right Amdír_.”  He thought, having previously noted the same unusual level of interest the guards displayed in Thranduil’s movements but paid little attention to it.

Elrond caught sight of Tóriôn, Amdír’s personal aid and summoned a nearby elf to invite him to his table.  He needed to get control of this situation as quickly as possible but he wasn’t going to be able to do it alone.

“You need something Elrond?”  Tóriôn asked as he stepped up to the table.

“I need you to find a way to distract Galion for a few hours.”  Elrond told him as he pushed he tea cup aside.  “Nothing obvious and tell no one I asked you to do this, understood?”  He arched a brow at him.

“Absolutely.”  Tóriôn smiled, his silver eyes dancing with mischief.

“Tóriôn, behave.  I mean it.”  Elrond stated sternly.  “And tell him I will speak to him later.”

“Alright.”  He replied, rolling his eyes.  “What do you want me to do with him?”

“Go play a game of chess.  I hear he is very good at it.”  Elrond chuckled as he walked away from him toward the prince.

“Prince Thranduil.”  Elrond greeted him with a smile, turning to only nod at Galion.  “Please, will you join me for a walk?”  He asked quietly.

“I would be honored.”  Thranduil stated as he rose, his expression guarded as an unsettling feeling washed over him.  There was a formality in Elrond’s demeanor that had not been there before and it bothered him.

“I understand you like to play chess.”  Tóriôn stated, stepping quickly in front of Galion blocking his view of Thranduil and Elrond.  “I hear you are quite good.”

“I have won my fair share.”  Galion replied, struggling to hide his irritation as he rose to his feet.

“Good!”  Tóriôn exclaimed as he purposefully led him in the opposite direction from where Elrond had taken the prince.  “I love chess, it will be nice to actually play someone who is a challenge!”  He continued, leading him out the back entrance, unconsciously walking right past the guards.

“You have an excellent talent for guarding your thoughts.”  Elrond told him as they walked casually toward the stairs that would lead up to King Amdír’s rooms.  “Except for when it comes to Galion.”  He added quietly, smiling slightly as his eyes warmed toward him.

“Was I that obvious?” Thranduil asked, feeling a slight heat creep up his neck from beneath the collar of his robe.

“Yes and no.”  Elrond laughed as they started up the stairs.  “Right now he is the only one you really know around here.  It would only seem natural for you to be friendlier toward him than anyone else.  I just wanted to make you aware of it before you became too comfortable with it.”

“Thank you.”  Thranduil said, smiling as sincere gratitude radiated from his eyes.

“Relax Thranduil.”  Elrond told him as they reached the platform.  “This is an informal meeting, meant to act as an official introduction to King Amdír and to discuss the letter your father sent before your arrival.”

“I see.”  Thranduil commented quietly as he wondered not for the first time what additional restrictions his father would seek to place upon him while he was there.

“Go on in, he is expecting you.”  Elrond told him, smiling as he clasped his shoulder.  “It’s going to be fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments are always welcome!


	12. Chapter 12

Uncomfortable, Thranduil hesitated as he reached for the handle.  Even though the King of the Woodland Realm was his father, entering his private chambers unannounced was unthinkable even for him.  Swallowing his fears with some difficulty, he quietly turned the handle and entered.  The kings’ personal rooms appeared very similar to those assigned to him, only slightly larger with the most notable difference being the heavily ladened bookcases that lined the walls between the large open windows.

“Thranduil!”  Amdír greeted him with a broad smile as he entered the large public sitting area.  “I must apologize for last evening.”  He continued, noting the recognition that flashed in the young princes’ eyes.

“I had intended to speak with you when I encountered you in the glade but you seemed to already have so much on your mind, I decided to leave you to your thoughts.”  He added as he grasped his hands in a friendly gesture.  “I hope you can forgive me.”

“ _Hîr vuin_ (My Lord), there is no harm.”  Thranduil replied, nodding a respectful bow toward him.

“I would prefer that we dispense with the formalities.”  Amdír said quietly as he released his hands and turned away from him.  “Please, I am Amdír.”  He added, picking up the carafe of wine and pouring them both a goblet.

“ _Ben iest gîn_.” (As you wish)  Thranduil replied, schooling his expression as he accepted the goblet from him, feeling slightly uncomfortable under the kings’ gaze.  In the depths of his eyes he saw the same familiarity that he had seen when Lenwë looked at him, yet there was something different.

“The wine is from the vineyards of Gianduin on the western side of the Misty Mountains and not quite as heady as the Dorwinion of Rhûn.”  Amdír commented as he nodded toward a long leather covered settee.

“Yes, it is also not as sweet.”  Thranduil ventured as he made himself comfortable, still studying the king.

“You either know your wines or you have already met my sister the Lady Gilaiwë.”  Amdír chuckled as he seated himself on the opposite end of the settee.

“My father has a quite a selection of wine but yes.”  Thranduil paused, smiling warmly.  “I had the pleasure of meeting her two days ago.”

“I hope you do not find me rude.”  Amdír began quietly, returning the princes’ inquisitive gaze.  “I tend to be rather blunt in comparison to most as I do not care for wasting time with excessive pleasantries.”  He said, his tone slightly more firm.

“Actually I would find that quite refreshing.”  Thranduil stated, his eyes narrowing slightly as he noted the uncomfortable shift in the kings’ mood.

“I want you to know first that you are a guest here and you are welcome to stay as long as you feel comfortable.”  He stated, pausing to sip the wine and let his words sink in.  “Unfortunately, there are sensitive matters that need to be discussed between us.  You need to know that even if it were in my power to do so, I am not in favor of alliances formed on the basis of a marriage.”  Amdír stated as he leaned back slightly against the back of the settee.

“I see you were unaware of your fathers’ intentions.”  He added, noting the quick flash of what appeared to be anger in the young princes’ eyes.

“I cannot say that I did not expect it.”  Thranduil admitted, resting the foot of the goblet on the arm of the settee to hide the tremble in his hand.  “My father has already brought the matter to my attention.”

“How do you feel about that?”  Amdír asked quietly, frowning inwardly as he watched the young princes’ body language.

“I am not directly opposed to the idea of marriage itself.  I would prefer to choose my own wife.  However, I understand my duty.”  Thranduil stated, a slight smile curled his lips although it did nothing to alter the unreadable expression on his face.  The king was difficult to read, he wasn’t sure if he should trust him not to report everything back to his father.

Frowning inwardly, Amdír’s thoughts turned to the meeting with Lord Garävegión.  It was not the nature of things to interfere with the politics of another kingdom, yet to him it was a moral issue that should be addressed by the White Council as a violation of the right of free will.  He had heard of the slave traders in the northwest, gathered mostly in the lesser mountains of Emyn Uial as well as the Ettenmoors and Carn Dûm near the Mountains of Angmar.  There had been rumors of nobles in Doriath, Lindon and around Lake Evendim that had owned _tham-m_ _ûl_ (House Slave) for their personal pleasure.

Unable to separate his heart and mind when it involved Háleärgiliäth, Amdír decided it would be better if he left the matter of Orophers’ transgressions Elrond.  The young prince before him more than eloquently defined the regal grace of his position as prince yet he was as obedient as a frightened servant with no voice of his own.  It pained him greatly to see him in such a state, his fathers’ control over him was clearly evident.

Turning their conversation to the topic of Lórinand, Amdír found his heart lifting as he observed the eagerness of the young prince to learn everything.  There was so much of his mother in him as he began to relax and to ask more and more questions.  His fascination was almost childlike, excitement pulled at his heart as he thought of how proud she would have been of him.

“I must admit that I am quite pleased to have you here young Thranduil.”  Amdír stated as he rose to his feet.  “Unfortunately, at the risk of offending you.”  He continued cautiously, noting the suddenly closed expression on the princes’ face.  “I am not in favor of your fathers’ politics.  You are more than welcome to stay here as long as you like.  You have far more allies here than you know.”

“May I then speak freely?”  Thranduil asked pointedly, an uncomfortable feeling settling deep in his stomach as he stood, meeting the kings’ gaze.

“Please.”  Amdír stated, smiling warmly as he tilted his head curiously.

“I will not allow myself to be used as a pawn against my father.”  Thranduil stated firmly, his posture straightening unconsciously as he continued to study the kings’ face.

“Thranduil.”  Amdír sighed heavily, no longer able to hide the pain in his heart.  “I seem to have misspoken and I apologize.  “Please, sit down.”  He said quietly as he grasped his shoulder, guiding him back down on the settee.

“I admit these things to you only because I need you to trust me.”  He stated firmly, yet his grasp was gentle as he took Thranduils’ hands in his own.  “Soon after you arrived there was another visitor from the Woodland Realm.  The message he brought was...”  Amdír paused, closing his eyes against the anger he saw in the young princes’ face.

“Has something happened to my father?”  Thranduil blurted, his body suddenly flashing both hot and cold as he struggled to breathe.

“No, nothing like that!”  Amdír exclaimed, his grasp on his hands tightening.  “Your father is fine.”  He added as he looked at him, noting the genuine relief in his face.

“Your mother would be so proud of you young Thranduil.”  He told him, smiling warmly as his thumb absently caressed the back of the princes’ hand.  “Yes, I knew your mother.”  He added as Thranduils’ eyes widened slightly.  “I was in love with her and I suppose I still am.  Which is why you need to know that Lórinand will always been a safe haven for you whenever you need it.”

“What happened between you and my mother?”  Thranduil asked quietly, the need to know more about her outweighed the fear of possibly exposing his father and therefore revealing his own shame.

“Nothing really.”  Amdír sighed, a slight smile touched his lips, and his face softened as his gaze took on a faraway look.  “I was so captivated by her, she was the most beautiful _elleth_ (elf maiden) I had ever seen.  But she was so much more than that.  Her voice was like music to my ears and her heart was so pure.”

“It was only after I finally found my courage to ask her father for her hand that I learned she was to be betrothed to your father.”  He continued quietly, after long moments of silence.  “I left Lindon after that and never returned.”  He said, finally turning his gaze back to the prince.

“Thranduil.”  He stated calmly, his tone was thoughtful as he searched his face.  “There are things I know about Oropher.”  He paused, noting the gray storm clouds stirring within the depths of the sapphire eyes.  “In my long years I have learned that for the most part, change comes rarely if ever to some.  This burden you carry need not be endured alone.”

“So you know.”  Thranduil all but whispered, dropping his gaze as he felt the weight of his shame wash over him.

“This is not of your own doing.”  Amdír stated firmly, resisting the urge to pull him into his arms and comfort him, knowing in his heart that was not what he needed at that moment.  Releasing his hands, he reached up, lifting his chin to force him to look at him. 

“Your father may have sent you here as a punishment, but I see it differently.  I hope you will use this time with us to find the answers you seek.  I harbor no ill will toward your father, it is not my place.  The day will come when each of us will stand alone before Mandos, he will render his judgement to each the consequences of their own transgressions.  Do not burden your _fäë_ (soul) with that which you had no control.”  He told him as he studied him, a slow smile curling his lips as he felt the young prince studying him in return.

~*~     ~*~     ~*~     ~*~     ~*~     ~*~

Sitting quietly with his legs drawn comfortably beneath him in the chair, Galion sipped his tea as he watched the young prince with concern.  The mood within their assigned quarters had been somewhat somber since his meeting with King Amdír three days ago.  The inquisitiveness he had when he first arrived had notably diminished, his questions were fewer as he became withdrawn into a silent contemplative mood.

“Gilaiwë asked about you this evening.”  He ventured quietly, still watching the prince from over the rim of his teacup.

“Have you ever just wanted to go away?”  Thranduil asked as he continued to stare at the flames in the small iron stove that also served as the hearth in their public sitting area.

“You know?”  He continued, turning to look at him when Galion remained silent.  “Go to place where no one knows who you are or anything about you?”

“What is wrong?”  Galion asked, setting his teacup on the small table beside him as he rose from the chair.  “You have been acting strangely since your meeting the king.”  He continued as he walked toward him.

“I do not understand what my father seeks to gain with this...”  He began quietly yet cut himself off, unable to put into words the shame that still burned inside him.

“Thranduil.”  He said softly, taking the princes’ hands in his own as he sat down on the edge of the low table in front of him.  “Do you trust me?”  He asked as Thranduil turned slightly to look at him.

“Do I have a choice?”  He stated more than asked, aware that his tone was far more accusatory than he would have preferred yet the pain in his heart was heavy.

“It is time you knew the truth.”  Galion sighed, releasing his hands as he stood up and walked away from him.

“What truth?”  He all but demanded, his eyes narrowing dangerously as he watched him collect the small kettle from the stove.

“I confess my part in revealing to Lord Garävegión my concerns of your fathers’ ill treatment of you.”  He said as he walked back to his own teacup first.  “It might surprise you to know that there were already suspicions between certain ones close the king.”  He continued as he turned toward him, meeting the angry gaze with conviction.

“You had no right.”  Thranduil stated, glaring at him as he watched him refilling his teacup.

“I not only had the right, I had the responsibility.”  Galion told him, his own anger rising as he turned away from him.  “Whether you like it or not, one day you may very well sit on that throne and I for one would prefer that you be whole when you do.”  His tone grew harsh and angry as he returned the kettle to the stove with a loud thud.

“What he was doing to you goes beyond a disgrace in the face _Eru_ (God) and everything good in this world!  Hiding behind a crown makes it a hundred fold worse!”   He continued as he turned back to face him, noting the flinch as Thranduil’s expression shifted from anger to astonishment.

“Do you not see this?!”  Galion exclaimed when the silence between lengthened uncomfortably.

“Why did you not talk to me?”  Thranduil asked, his tone strangely quiet as he stared at him, seeing both anger and hurt in the dark green eyes.

“I didn’t know how.”  Galion replied, his shoulders slumping visibly as his anger slowly drained him.  “The more I tried to get close to you to, the harder you pushed me away.”  He choked out passed the tears that suddenly streamed freely down his cheeks.

“I only sought to protect you.”  He sobbed, burying his face in Thranduil’s robes as the prince quickly cleared the distance between them.

“You have done far more than that _Esh_ _ë_.” (Note)  Thranduil told him as he pulled him into a strong embrace.  “I have been so blind.”  He sighed heavily, kissing his temple as he rubbed his back, trying to comfort him.

“Sit.”  Thranduil said quietly as he guided him back toward the chair near the stove.  “I will be right back.”

Patting his shoulder softly as he turned away from him, hastily making his way to the washing room that divided the two bed chambers.  His thoughts were dark and angry toward his father, yet he blamed himself as he filled the bowl with water from the pitcher.  Thoroughly wetting a soft cloth, he wrung it out and returned to the sitting area.

“I’m fine.”  Galion said shakily, attempting to take the damp cloth from him as Thranduil knelt in front of him.

“No you are not fine.”  Thranduil stated, softening his tone with a slight smile as he pushed his hands out of the way.  “You are always taking care of me, let me take care of you for once.”  He told him as he gently washed away his tears.

“I’m sorry I got so angry with you.”  Galion said softly, dropping his gaze to his lap.

“You had every right.”  Thranduil told him, kissing his forehead as he stood up.  “I am sorry I gave you a reason to be angry.”  He said as he took his chin in his hand, lifting his face upward to look at him.

Sighing heavily as Thranduil walked away from him, Galion pushed himself up from the chair and walked back the stove to retrieve the kettle.  Smiling wryly to himself as he poured the tea from their cups back into the kettle and refilling them with fresh warmer brew, he felt somewhat relieved.

“You have not touched the rolls I brought for you.”  He said almost absently as Thranduil walked back into the sitting room.  “They’re actually very good and would go well with the sweet tea.”

“If you keep feeding me all the time I will need to see a seamstress for new robes.”  Thranduil chuckled as he sank back down on the end of the settee.

“Humor me.”  Galion said, a slight grin forming on his lips as he picked up one of the rolls from the wooden basket on the edge of the stove.  “I think you will be pleasantly surprised.”  He added, handing it to him as he sat down beside him on the settee.

Frowning slightly as he weighed it in his hand, Thranduil seemed to study it for a moment before nibbling curiously at the soft breaded outside.  The buttery flavor tasted good as he glanced back at Galion for a moment before taking a small bite of it.

“I told you.”  Galion chuckled as he watched Thranduil’s eyes widen in delight as he hurriedly chewed the small bite.

“What is that in there?”  He asked and quickly took larger bite, savoring the taste as he slowly chewed and swished it around in his mouth.

“The center is filled with goat cheese and other spices the cook will not tell anyone.”  Galion laughed as he balanced his teacup to keep from spilling it all over himself.

The strained atmosphere of the past few days seemed to have broken as they relaxed, Thranduil once more began asking questions about Lórinand and some of the elves that lived there.  They both seemed to know that their earlier conversation was not over, yet it was a topic neither of them wanted to discuss at the moment.  In some ways as well, they both seemed to be studying each other as they felt themselves growing closer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments are always welcome!


	13. Chapter 13

Flashing a wide grin as he dropped the reins, Thranduil repeated the motion and closed his eyes as he felt _Maeglir’s_ body move in unison with him.  Lightly squeezing his knees, he turned his hips slightly in the opposite direction and immediately sensed the shift in the steeds muscles as _Maeglir_ continued to match him turn for turn.

“Run _Maeglir_ , run!”  Thranduil whispered excitedly as he leaned forward, stretching his arms out like wings as the steed suddenly lurched forward in a charging gallop through the tall grass of the sun drenched plains bordering the forest just north of Lórinand.

Narrowing his eyes against the buffeting wind, he luxuriated in the freedom he felt working with the great steed.  Gripping the wide barrel of the steeds’ girth tightly with his thighs as the wind ripped passed them, the silk of his tunic clung to his sweat drenched chest.  Long tresses of silvery blond hair trailed behind him as they raced in seemingly meaningless patterns through the field.  Concentrating on nothing but the sound of the pounding hooves and the feel of the wind cooling his overheated skin, he found a level of tranquility he could find nowhere else.

“Easy boy.”  He stated firmly as he lightly squeezed his knees, carefully slowing him to a fast paced canter.  He continued to talk to him as he gently guided him with subtle movements of his hips, they moved in a wide circle as Thranduil slowly brought the steed to a comfortable walk.

“I think this is the first time I have seen him truly smile.”  Gilaiwë commented absently as she watched him from her vantage point of one of the scout posts, high within the branches of the Vellanräé tree.

“It’s the only time he is truly happy because he is allowed to be himself.”  Galion said quietly, a frown creasing his brow as he leaned back against the smooth bark of the tree.  “Oropher grants him little time to himself beyond the training of _Maeglir_.  It’s the one thing even he understands only Thranduil can do if he is to bond properly with him as his personal mount.”

“Amdír told me of Garävegión’s visit a fortnight ago.”  She said, scooting closer to him, curling her feet beneath her on the platform.  “It is true?”  She added, her voice was barely above a whisper as she studied Galions’ face.

“I’m afraid so.”  He replied, blinking as his eyes misted over slightly.  “I only wish I had gone to him sooner with my concerns.”  He sighed heavily, turning sad eyes back toward the horse and rider in the distant field.

“You cannot blame yourself for this!”  She exclaimed, clasping his folded hands firmly in her own.  “None of this is your fault!  Lenwë explained everything to me, there was no way you could have known!”

“But I should have known.”  He insisted, dropping his gaze to his hands.  “I felt something was not right when he started pulling away from me.  I thought perhaps he was just getting older, more independent as we all do when we reach a certain age.  But he changed so much, too fast.  I missed the spirited little elfling he was.”  He admitted, glancing at her with a shaky smile.

“Once Oropher granted him his own rooms, I would sometimes sneak in during the middle of the night to check on him.”  He said quietly, smiling slightly as he looked back out toward the field where Thranduil now lay across _Maeglir’s_ back.  “Still, I was weak and just as afraid of Oropher as everyone else until I found him...”  He cut himself off, closing his eyes as the memory flashed in his mind.

Horrified, Gilaiwë sat in silence as she listened as her old friend recalled the evening he felt the sudden urge to go to Thranduil’s rooms.  It was the first time in all the years he had served the royal family that he barged into the princes’ rooms without knocking or announcing himself.  The sight of his crumpled body on the floor, discarded like an unwanted child’s toy had stopped him, freezing him where he stood in disbelief.  Even that had not prepared him for the bloodied face and the vacant look in his beautiful eyes as the prince looked up at him through a flood of tears.

“May _Eru_ (God) forgive me, but that was the first time in my life I so desperately wanted to kill someone.”  Galion said quietly, still struggling to hold back the tears that threatened.

“All I could think about was him.”  He continued after long moments, his gaze turning back to the horse and rider in the field.  “He looked so broken, so empty of life, it tore my heart out.  He pushed me away at first, I wouldn’t let him.  He finally broke down in the most fretful sobbing I ever heard as I held him.  I don’t know how long we sat there on the floor and I didn’t care, I wasn’t leaving him alone for that monster to come back and hurt him again.”

“For whatever reason the Fates have aligned your paths.”  She told him softly, pulling the trembling elf into her arms.  “He has great strength within him, but we will all need to be his strength when his is waning.”

“The Fates be damned!”  Galion spat angrily, wiping away a stray tear as it slipped silently down his cheek.  “That child does not deserve this!”  He exclaimed as he extracted himself from her embrace.

“You know there is nothing you could have done to stop it without risking yourself.”  Gilaiwë said softly, grasping his shoulder.  “The Fates have no care or concern for our feelings.  They seek only to keep the balance of all things for they do not see right or wrong, good or evil as we do.  I am not gifted with the sight, yet I can see the stars are aligning, Thranduil has a destiny that may cost him everything.”

Turning quickly at the sound of heavy hoof beats, they watched as Faÿláën galloped past them at almost breakneck speed toward Thranduil.  Leaning over the side of their perch, Gilaiwë saw the concerned faces of Anÿlläën and Ninthálôr as they reined their mounts to a quick halt, sending clumps of dirt flying behind them.

“Come on!”  She exclaimed, glancing quickly back at Galion as she grabbed the heavy knotted rope.  “Something is wrong!”  Both elves scrambled down the rope, landing lightly on the ground in front of the riders.

“Lady Gilaiwë!”  Anÿlläën exclaimed, nudging his mount toward her.  “King Amdír sent us.  He wishes for you to take Galion and the Prince to your cottage and remain there until he can speak with you.”  He stated breathlessly, his gaze flickering between them and the two riders now galloping toward them through the field.

“Come _hiril vuin_ (my lady), we must hurry!”  Ninthálôr insisted, reaching for her as he kneed his mount closer to her.  “Faÿláën will bring the prince.”  He told her as he pulled her up, sitting in her front of him.  Glancing quickly toward Anÿlläën to make sure he had grabbed Galion, he urged his mount forward, turning back into the forest as they headed south to the Vale of the Nandor.

Clinging to the slightly larger and more muscular elf in front of him, Galion felt dread sinking into the pit of his stomach as they sped down the narrow path.  The forest becoming little more than a blur to him as they quickly traversed the twisting path toward Gilaiwës’ small cottage.

“Someone please tell me what is going on!”  Thranduil exclaimed as he reined _Maeglir_ to a halt, swinging himself quickly from his back.

“Come!  Get inside!”  Gilaiwë called to him urgently as Ninthálôr slid quickly from his mount, pulling her small frame with him.

“Listen to her _hîr vuin_.” (My Lord)  Faÿláën urged him as he reached over, grasping _Maeglir’s_ reins.

“Go _Maeglir_!”  Thranduil exclaimed as he looked up at the stable master with great concern.

“I will take care of him.”  Faÿláën told him as he and Anÿlläën turned quickly away from them, disappearing down a much lesser known path back toward Lórinand.

Grasping Galions’ shoulders, Thranduil cast a final glance behind him before turning toward the small single story cottage nestled snuggly amongst a large crop of Vellanräé trees.  Obscured for the most part by thick shrubbery and tall leafy foliage growing wild and unattended, he followed her as Ninthálôr lead his mount quickly out of view.

“Make yourselves comfortable.”  She stated as she ushered them quickly inside.  “Ninthálôr will explain as soon as he has seen to _Keta_.”  She continued as she closed the door behind them and moved through the surprisingly large main room, lighting the lanterns fixed to the walls.

“I think I will stand.”  Thranduil stated, moving toward the stone hearth.  Suddenly quite aware of his damp clothing and filthy appearance, he leaned against the stone wall, anxiously looking around the room.

“Relax Prince Thranduil.”  She told him quietly, smiling as she turned toward him.  “If we were truly in danger my brother would sent more than just Anÿlläën by himself much less simply tell me to get inside.  I have a feeling this has more to do with you.”

“Me?!”  He blurted, a deep frown creasing his brow as he stared at her.  “What do you mean this has to do with me?”  He asked, watching her as she finished lighting the lanterns.

“It has everything to do with you Prince Thranduil.”  Ninthálôr stated as he quickly entered the cottage through a door on the opposite side of the room.  “It would seem that your father did not take kindly to King Amdír sending most of your guards back to the Woodland Realm.”  He told him, a slight smile curling his lips as he walked toward him.

“He did what?!”  Thranduil exclaimed, his eyes widened as he stared at him in disbelief.

“Lord Tirithiáël arrived this morning requesting to speak with King Amdír.”  Ninthálôr stated as he knelt on one knee in front of a small iron barrel and began to fill it with wood chunks.  “They have been in council since then at the Vale of the Anduin where you spent your first night here.  Lenwë and Celeborn are with him and I do not think it went well for them.”  He continued as he struck his flint, lighting a small bundle of tinder and tossed in inside the barrel.

“Did not go well for whom?”  Thranduil asked quietly, his earlier feeling of dread fading slowly toward fear.

“I can say only the lord was quite angry as he and his men prepared to leave the vale.”  Ninthálôr said quietly, a broad smile gracing his slender face as he rose to his feet.  “King Amdír can be very convincing.”  He added, casting a glance toward Gilaiwë.

“Sit down Thranduil.  I am sure my brother is on his way here as we speak.”  She told him as she walked toward the large armed chair opposite from Galion.  “Ninthálôr, would you mind getting the tea ready?”  She asked, curling her small body into the chair.

Frowning slightly as he watched her, Thranduil lowered his tall frame onto the foot bench in front of Galion.  He had seen her a few times in the dining hall and only spoke with her briefly a couple of times at the fountain where he first saw her.   Dressed in a soft pale green tunic and forest green leggings, she appeared even more childlike to him, especially curled into a large chair that only made her seem smaller.  The dark blue eyes that watched him in return seemed to look into his very soul as she sat there in silence for long moments.

“I cannot say this was not expected.”  She said quietly, pausing as if searching for her words.  “Amdír sent the guards away out of concern for you.”

“I have no reason to fear them.”  Thranduil stated cautiously, a deep frown forming on his brow as he continued to stare at her.  “Why was this necessary?”

“Thranduil.”  Galion spoke up quietly, leaning forward to grasp his shoulder.  “You must try to understand.  Their loyalty is to your father, not you.  They were not here to protect you as much as to watch you.”  He told him as Thranduil turned to look at him, his eyes darkening slightly.

“There are things you do not yet understand.”  Gilaiwë told him, arching a brow as he turned back toward her.  “Yes, Amdír tells me much but not everything.”  She said quietly, smiling as she shifted slightly in the chair.  “He sensed a great burden upon you when he met with you a few days ago.  There is much sadness in your heart for one so young and he would not see you taken back to your father so soon.”

“My father is not one to trifle with.”  Thranduil said quietly, struggling to control the fear that had crept deeply into his gut.  “I fear this will only...”

“Come.”  Gilaiwë called quietly yet clearly as she held up her hand to silence him.

“I apologize for the intrusion Gilaiwë.”  Amdír stated as he entered, glancing quickly around the room as he closed the door behind him, his gaze settling on the young prince.

“Please, do not get up.”  The king stated, waving his hand toward the prince as he walked toward his sister seated in the chair opposite him.  “When we last spoke I asked you to trust me.  It is something I need you to do now.”  He continued as he lowered himself onto the foot bench in front of Gilaiwë.

“I do not understand.”  Thranduil stated, schooling his expression as he pulled on the familiar cloak of indifference.  “It is not a wise choice to anger my father.”

“Allow me to be blunt.”  Amdír sighed heavily as he leaned forward, clasping his hands together as he rested his elbows on his knees.  “I am not concerned with angering King Oropher, not in this matter as I am not alone in my feelings.  Your fathers’ arrogance will be his downfall.  He has greatly overstepped himself in attempting to use me as a means to punish you.”  He stated more forcefully, raising his hand when the prince opened his mouth to speak.

“It is true, I cannot forbid you from returning to your fathers’ halls if it is what you truly wish.”  Amdír continued after an uncomfortable pause.  “King Oropher seeks an alliance with Lórinand and I am willing to enter into such an arrangement.  However, that alliance will be with you and the Woodland Realm, not your father.”

“I beg your pardon?”  Thranduil nearly blurted, his brow rising as he stared at King Amdír in disbelief, his calm exterior cracking slightly.

“Thranduil.”  Amdír said quietly, a slight smile forming on his lips as he studied the surprised expression on the young princes’ face.  “You have been here slightly more than one moon.  I have been able to observe you under extreme circumstances and I am pleased with what I have seen.  Yet there is still much you need to learn, things you will not learn should you decide to return to your fathers’ halls.”

“I do not know what to say.”  Thranduil said quietly, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied the king more out of curiosity than distrust.

“For now, say nothing.”  Amdír stated as he rose to his feet.  “My offer of Lórinand as your safe haven still stands.  We are honored to have you with us.”  He told him, stepping closer to him as the prince rose to his feet.  “Especially me.”  He said quietly as he took his hands in his own.  “If you are anything like your mother, my choice has been wisely made.  We will speak further on this another time.”  He stated as he released the princes’ hands and walked to the door. 

“Feel free to visit me whenever you like.”  Amdír added, a faint smile touching his lips as he opened the door, departing without waiting for a response from the young prince.

“You look as though you could use something stronger than tea.”  Gilaiwë commented quietly as the young prince turned toward her.

“What I could use is a proper bath.  I am not fit company for anyone right now.”  Thranduil chuckled nervously, looking away from her as he tugged at the hem still damp silk of his tunic.

“ _Why do you have to be so beautiful?_ ”  He asked her silently as he reached up to adjust the collar that suddenly felt too tight.

“There is a delightful hot spring just beyond the stable.”  Ninthálôr commented to no one in particular as he set a tray of tea cups on the stand between them.  “My robes should fit you nicely.”  He added as he glanced quickly up and down the tall frame of the young prince.

“I...”  Thranduil began, his gaze turning quickly back to meet hers as Ninthálôr interrupted him.

“Nonsense, it is late and it is a long walk back to Lórinand.”  He heard the servants’ voice as he continued to stare at her, feeling a slight heat rise from beneath the color of his tunic as she smiled at him.

“You are among friends Thranduil.”  Gilaiwë told him as she reached for the tea cup Ninthálôr held out to her.  “But if it matters that much to you Ninthálôr can take Galion back to collect something for you to change into.”  She added as she smiled over the rim of her cup, enjoying the slight blush that colored his cheeks.

“You are going to have to show me what you did with this tea.”  Galion stated, pushing himself up from the chair.  “I absolutely love this blend of spices.”  He exclaimed as he and Ninthálôr made their way back toward the small kitchen area of the cottage.

Thranduil frowned at the servants retreating backs, he swallowed nervously.  Closing his eyes for a moment to regain his composure before turning his attention back to Gilaiwë.  She was more than just beautiful to him, there was an air about her that felt strangely comfortable.  There was an odd depth to her soft voice that resonated within him when she spoke, stirring desires he knew he should not even be thinking about.  The way she looked at him now made it impossible not to notice those stirrings within him now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End Notes:  
> Thanks for reading! Comments are always welcome!


	14. Chapter 14

“That was almost too easy!”  Ninthálôr nearly giggled, his soft gray eyes dancing with mischief as they quickly disappeared into the kitchen.  “I was beginning to think he was _Seronimÿa_!” (Notes)  He added in a hushed tone.

“Oh no!”  Galion exclaimed, shaking his head as he covered his mouth to mask his voice a little.  “I see the way he looks at her when he thinks no one is watching.”  He added, almost whispering as he glanced toward the archway leading back into the public sitting room.

“So what’s the problem?”  Ninthálôr asked quietly, arching a brow as they leaned against the counter.

“To put it quite frankly his fathers’ customs have made him a prude, especially in how he views _elleth’s_.” (Female elves)  Galion groaned, his shoulders slumping notably as a deep frown creased his brow.  “Her position as Amdírs’ sister makes it all the more difficult.”  He sighed, shaking his head.

“Are you serious?”  Ninthálôr stated more than asked, his eyes widening in utter amazement.

“Oh you have no idea!”  Galion complained, pausing to sip his tea.  “It’s been a dreadful ordeal just trying to talk to him about her.”  He shook his head in frustration.

“You can come closer you know.”  Gilaiwë said quietly, smiling softly as she used her foot to push the foot bench only slightly toward him.  “We can just talk if you want, I’m not going to bite you.”

“ _That is not what I am afraid of_.”  Thranduil thought, nearly panicking as he felt his skin prickle from the wave of heat that washed over him.  Centuries of lessons on courtly customs, etiquette and his duties suddenly flooded his mind.   “Really, _hiril vuin_ (my lady), I am not fit company, I smell like a horse!”  He chuckled albeit nervously, his gaze flickered over her face and the foot bench, noting it was still so very close to her.

Frowning inwardly, Gilaiwë watched him in silence for a few moments.  Tentatively reaching out to him with her gift of empathy, she sensed the myriad of chaotic emotions running though him.  Almost as skittish as a doe with a new fawn, he looked as if he would bolt from the room if she made any sudden movement.

“Maybe I like the smell of horses.”  She laughed, tilting her head slightly as she looked directly into those beautiful sapphire eyes.  “ _Relax Thranduil_.”  She told him silently, refusing to drop her gaze.

Shaken by her audacity, Thranduil reacted with a burst of laughter as he struggled for something clever to say.  The prickly feeling that had danced across his skin now intensified as he felt his desire presenting itself against the tightening fabric of his leggings.

“I like horses but I certainly do not care to smell like one!”  He laughed, trying to adjust the hem of his tunic over himself without being obvious.

“Humor me.”  Gilaiwë chuckled as she leaned forward.  “Come, sit down, please.”  She said quietly, patting the soft leather covering on the foot bench.

“Clearly you have me at a disadvantage, _hiril vuin_.” (My lady)  Thranduil said quietly, a cautious smile touched his lips as he stepped forward.  Resisting the urge to pull the foot bench a little bit farther away from her as it would only draw more attention to his nervousness, he tugged on the hem of his tunic as he lowered himself onto it.  “You are obviously enjoying this.”  He added, his eyes narrowing as he tilted his head curiously.

“Whatever do you mean?”  She asked coyly, her own eyes narrowing slightly as she lifted her teacup to her lips.

“If I did not know better I would think you were flirting with me.”  Thranduil laughed, his tone deepening as he shifted a little uncomfortably on the foot bench.

Although his gaze never left her deep blue eyes, he was more than aware of the feminine aura emanating from her small body.  Framing her strong yet beautiful face, her long silver tresses cascaded over her shoulders, spilling into a pile at her hips.  Tailored perfectly for her body, the modestly cut tunic revealed nothing, yet he watched the slight rise and fall of her breasts with each breath she took.  The playful smile that danced across her dusky lips stirred his arousal even more.

“Hmmm.”  Gilaiwë mused out loud as she studied him for a moment, still sensing the struggle within him.  “Does that make you uncomfortable?”  She asked quietly, frowning inwardly as she set the teacup aside.  Although it had been many years since she attended a kings’ formal court such as those Oropher undoubtedly held customary, she still remembered the old elvish courting rituals.

“Admittedly I find myself in an awkward position.”  He replied, frowning slightly as she reached forward in a bold move with her palms turned upward.  It was a flirtatious gesture that served to heighten his discomfort.

Trembling, he had no choice but to extend his own hands, palms down lest he offend her at best or worse insult her by doing nothing.  His breath caught in his throat as he felt the warmth of her small hands against his own, the tips of her middle fingers pressing firmly against his pulsing wrists.

Caught in the deep blue pools of her eyes, Thranduil struggled to breathe.  The silence in the room was broken only by the soft crackle in the nearby hearth.  There had been a few _elleth’s_ who had caught his attention over the years, Silvan maidens whom he knew his father would not have approved.  The unsettling feeling he felt when he first arrived in Lórinand washed over him as he studied her face.  He could not deny the desire he felt for her, yet it would be improper for him to act on those feelings considering there had been no petition for courtship.  Her station as the sister to the King of Lórinand further confused him as he thought of his meeting with Amdír and his agreement not to honor fathers’ proposition for marriage.

“We are not in your fathers’ court.”  Gilaiwë told him, sensing the conflict within him.  Her tone was soft and inviting as she drew her fingertips teasingly across his palms.  “I answer to no one and no one has the right to speak for me.”

“Do you know what you are asking of me?”  He whispered softly, unsure of his own voice as her fingertips sent shivers through him.  Torn between his desire for her and the weight of what was expected of him, he hesitated to reject what she offered him.

“I ask for no promises.”  She told him quietly as she continued to trail her fingertips teasingly across his palms.

She felt him stiffen as she leaned close enough to kiss him, pausing as she looked deeply into his guarded eyes.  His breath was warm and sweet on her lips as she brushed them softly against his, smiling to herself as he nervously wet them quickly with his tongue.

“Relax Thranduil.”  She whispered, again brushing his lips as she spoke.  “I assure you, not all _elleth’s_ are quite as virtuous as you may think.”  She told him quietly, smiling as his eyes widened in disbelief.

“What?”  She chuckled softly, leaning back slightly.  “Many view piety as something reserved only for the marriage bed.  Do you really think we are so different from you?”

“My father...”  He said quietly, falling silent as he felt a brief but strong wave of anger hit him like a hot summer wind before she could close her mind to him.

“As with any king, your father is rightfully concerned.”  Gilaiwë stated quickly but quietly, schooling her tone carefully as she leaned back to study him.  She sensed not only the strong bond he still had to his father, but his reluctance to willfully go against him regardless of how much he desired her. 

“You are the only heir to the largest elven kingdom in Middle Earth.  While Oropher may be many things, a fool he is not.  Any child born of your seed, legitimate or otherwise would have the right to lay claim to the throne and this he would seek to avoid at all cost.”  She continued softly, smiling as she reached up to gently caress his cheek.

“Then my fate has already been sealed.”  He said quietly, almost to himself as he bowed his head.  Closing his eyes, he tried unsuccessfully to will his traitorous body under control as his desire for her strained almost painfully against the unforgiving material of his leggings.

“No Thranduil, listen to me.”  Gilaiwë stated firmly as she lifted his chin, forcing him to look at her.  “The Fates have no concern for the destinies of neither elves, dwarves nor man, they seek only the balance of all things.  Because of our gift of the right of free will, they can only influence our destinies, not control them.”

“What is it you would have of me _hiril vuin_?” (My lady)  He asked quietly, tilting his head as a slow yet trembling smile curled his lips.  The soft fragrance of jasmine and honeysuckle that filled his senses was intoxicating as she moved closer to him, heightening his desire for her.

“Nothing you do not willingly give.”  She whispered as she easily slid onto his lap, pressing her lips to his.  Smiling to herself as she surrendered her mouth to his gentle yet searching kiss, she relished the feel of his strong arms around her.

“Gilaiwë.”  He sighed heavily, his hoarse tone sounding more like a groan.  Tangling his fingers in the softness of her hair as he nuzzled her neck, breathing in the scent of her.  “I cannot deny I desire you far more than I should.”  He told her, closing his eyes as he pressed his cheek lightly against hers.

“But?”  She whispered softly, smoothing his hair as a mother would sooth a distraught child.

“Forgive me.”  He said quietly, a soft smile touched his lips as he leaned back to look into her eyes.  “It has nothing to do with you.”  He told her, his gaze trailing over her beautiful face as he searched for the right words.  “I must...”  He paused, clearing his throat as he stumbled over his thoughts for a moment.  “There are things I must consider.”

“There is nothing to forgive _mellon nîn_.” (My friend)  She replied softly as she took his face in her hands.  “I ask only that you not look to others but into your own heart for the answers you seek.”  She told him as she kissed him tenderly.

~*~     ~*~     ~*~     ~*~     ~*~     ~*~

“Oropher has only himself to blame.”  Galadriel stated as she turned toward her husband, her soft smile belied the angry tone in her voice.  “The child will not be so easily swayed.  I can see his _mëâtrú_ (Note) is strong.  It is true, he clings to his father as would any child with no other family.”

“I fear there will be reprisals.”  Celeborn sighed heavily, turning his attention to Amdírs’ back as he stared out the window across the room from him.  “This Lord Tirithiáël is not to be trusted.”

“How do you mean?”  Elrond asked, a deep frown creasing his brow as he studied Celeborn’s strange expression.

“It is only with his words he pays homage to Oropher.”  Celeborn stated, his gaze dropping to the dark liquid in his goblet.  “There are unsavory undertones within the Woodland Realm.  I do not believe even Oropher notices them.”

“It would seem in our desire to protect him, we have unwittingly placed Thranduil in far more danger than we could have foreseen.”  Amdír stated as he turned away from the window, his gaze thoughtfully surveying the faces in his sitting room.

“Convincing him to remain here will be difficult.”  Galadriel said quietly, arching a brow as she looked at Amdír.

“He cannot know what we have learned.”  Celeborn stated cautiously, quickly turning toward his wife.  “His allegiance to his father could blind him to our true intentions.”

“Our true intentions?”  Amdír stated more than asked, his tone shaper than he would have preferred as he nearly glared at Celeborn.  “I have only one intention, his safety and wellbeing.”

“Amdír.”  Galadriel addressed him calmly, her expression softening affectionately as she met his gaze.  “We all loved her.  She was more than a friend to all of us here.  We can help him but we cannot do so if we are disparaging of his father.  You know as well as I, blood ties can prove stronger than the truth.”

“We can guide him but we must be patient and earn his trust by allowing him to make up his own mind.”  Elrond stated calmly, turning toward her.  “If I have learned anything from him it is that he guards his thoughts and emotions extremely well.  He is not quick in coming to any decision.”

“For one so young he has a keen insight as to the world around him.”  Amdír commented quietly, nodding as his thoughts returning to his first encounter with the young prince at the glade.

“He has been gifted with a rare form of empathy.”   Galadriel commented, glancing toward the door as Lenwë entered the dwelling.  “Uniquely attuned to the order of nature he easily feels the aura of _Ithuri_ (Note).  If he is allowed to master it, in time he will not only learn to understand her but to speak to her as well.”

“If I may.”  Lenwë said quietly, nodding in apology toward Galadriel for interrupting her.  “It would seem your intuition was correct.”  He stated, his eyes narrowing as the king turned to look at him.  “As predicted, Tirithiáëls’ party did venture far into the plains where the prince was last seen with _Maeglir_.”

“Whether willingly or by force, returning Thranduil to his father Tirithiáël would most certainly elevate himself in Oropher’s eyes.”  Celeborn commented, his gaze shifting between the brothers as they stared at each other.

“That time is not now.  I have sensed that he has formed the bond of _Eshë_ (Note) with Galion.”  Galadriel said almost absently, her gaze turning inward for a moment.  “He is the key to reaching Thranduil.”  She added, noting the nods of agreement as she glanced about the room.  “I will need to speak with him very soon.”

“You said he was last seen on the plains.”  Elrond stated, frowning as he met Lenwë’s gaze.  “Where is he now?”

“Both he and Galion are safely with Gilaiwë in the Vale of Nandor as we speak.”  Amdír stated, his eyes narrowing as he noted the concern on the healer’s face.

“Nay.”  Lenwë shook his head, turning toward the healer.  “The patrols have been alerted, he has separated himself from Galion but is still in the Vale.  They are keeping their distance and have reportedly followed the prince to a grotto near the south glade.  I sent Tóriôn to escort him back to Lórinand by a safer route.”

~*~     ~*~     ~*~     ~*~     ~*~     ~*~

Slipping silently up over the moss covered rocks, smiling to himself, Tóriôn squatted down on his haunches.  Peering over the edge, he admired the long slender form of the golden haired elf as he slid smoothly beneath the surface of the crystal waters of the pool beneath him.  Leaning a bit forward, his silver eyes danced with mischief, he let his gaze trail over his narrow hips and firm buttocks as he watched him swim passed him.

Biting his bottom lip to keep from chuckling out loud, he remembered the shocked look on the young prince’s face when he contrived to not quite so accidentally walk in on him at the public bath house.  Already quite fair of skin, the young prince still managed to pale significantly at the intrusion.  Yet it was the deep ruddy blush immediately following that Tóriôn remembered most when he chose to recall the incident.  He was well aware of the relationship between Galion and the young prince and found it curious that he could still look so innocently beautiful.

Frowning slightly as his conscience got the better of him, he was still a bit reluctant as he turned away from the most pleasant view.  Shaking himself mentally, Tóriôn carefully picked his way back down the rocky incline, a soft smile lingered on his full lips as he stepped back into the cover of the forest.  Walking a short distance away before turning onto the narrow path leading to the grotto, he called out in a loud voice as he approached.

Startled, Thranduil dove deeply beneath the surface and swam toward the safety of the falls on the far side of the grotto.  Surfacing a short distance from the waterfall, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the edge of the forest, glancing upward toward the rocky overhang.  Straining to hear above the sounds of the waterfall, he suddenly felt very vulnerable in what had been a tranquil setting.

“Good evening Prince Thranduil.”

Turning quickly toward the voice, he recognized the raven haired elf as Tóriôn, the kings’ aide.  Nearly the same height as himself, the tall slender elf had a commanding presence as he stood there staring at him with his arms folded across his chest.  Frowning slightly as he studied his face, finding himself more than a little irritated at the smile he was struggling to hide behind his aloof expression.

“I assure you, there is no reason for concern.  Your comings and goings are no secret.”  Tóriôn stated, a smile curling his dusky lips as he watched the prince quickly turn toward the forest once more.  The slight blush that suddenly stained his cheeks only made him look so much more enticing.

“As safe as these forests are however, it can be dangerous to swim alone in the grottos.”  He said, getting the princes’ attention once again.  “Some have strong undercurrents that can easily pull even the strongest of swimmers into the underground aquafers.”

Narrowing his gaze at him as he reluctantly swam slowly toward him, Thranduil noted the slight smile and his cocky mannerism.  Over the past weeks the elf had found numerous reasons to seek him out, mostly to challenge him to a game of chess.  Although he never voiced them, Tóriôn had never been shy concerning his intentions, often raking those strange yet beautiful silver eyes over him at any given opportunity.  Thranduil had found himself watching him from a distance, his angular features only seemed to add to his exotic beauty.

It was more his irritation at the elf that spurred him forward toward the carved steps leading out of the swirling cool waters.  Refusing to allow the elf the pleasure of intimidating him, Thranduil found his footing on the bottom step and climbed confidently out of the pool.  Running his hands through his dripping hair, he smiled to himself, he thoroughly enjoyed the startled expression on the elf’s face as he walked toward him fully exposing himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End Notes:
> 
> Seronimÿa – Lover who is like self, in the sense of being of the same gender
> 
> Ithuri – The Spirit of the Forest in essence “Mother Nature”
> 
> Mëâtrú – a personal code as defined by the individuals’ ideas and beliefs based on their own ethics and morals 
> 
> Eshë – shortened version of - Eshë nîn níëvé - my friend in the sense of a trusted ally who is also a lover yet not life mate
> 
> Thanks for reading! Comments are always welcome!


	15. Chapter 15

Schooling his expression to one of indifference, Thranduil ignored the hint of a blush he felt creeping into his cheeks.  Normally self-assured and talkative, Tóriôn had been unusually quiet, not his usual flirty self as they walked the relatively short distance back to Lórinand and he secretly enjoyed the subtle feeling of power it gave him.

“He is waiting on the platform.”  Tóriôn said quietly, only the barest of soft smiles touched his lips as he gestured toward the stairs leading to the prince’s quarters.

“Thank you Tóriôn.”  Thranduil nodded toward him, making it obvious that he had noticed the slight blush that bloomed visibly on the elf’s cheeks as he returned the soft smile before turning away from him.

“I understand you wished to speak with me?”  He asked as he reached the top of the stairs, his eyes immediately moving to the two older elves seated on the long cushion covered bench against the far railing.  His gaze flickering curiously between Amdír and Lenwë as he walked toward them.

“Please, sit down Thranduil.”  Amdír chuckled as he moved slightly to one side, allowing the prince to sit between himself and Lenwë.  “My brother informs me, regardless of my intentions, your position requires I should explain myself.”

“Please, I do not wish to be treated differently than anyone else.”  Thranduil stated firmly, his smile quickly disappearing as he frowned slightly at Lenwë.

“I appreciate that, still I think he is right.”  Amdír stated as he leaned forward, filling another goblet with the lesser potent Gianduin white wine.  “My decision to send most of your fathers’ guards back to his halls has much to do with certain matters discussed during our first meeting.”  He continued, handing the goblet to the young prince.

“I am not so much treating you differently.”  He said quietly, pausing for a moment as he turned away from the searching gaze in those beautiful sapphire eyes.  “It is important to me that you be given the opportunity to live amongst us without the hindrance of watchful eyes of your father even if the information he receives is second hand as I choose not to trust what he is being told.”  He stated more firmly as he turned back toward him.

“It is not quite that simple.”  Lenwë sighed, adjusting his position on the bench as he turned to face the young prince.  “The alliance Amdír has offered you was not done so lightly.  However, if our kingdoms are to act in the best interest of each other it is important you come to know and understand that which is beyond your fathers’ views.  We believe a better understanding between us will build a stronger alliance.”

“Regardless of what agreement is reached, once you have returned to your fathers’ halls, things will be different for you.”  Amdír added, glancing from his brother to Thranduil.  “Perhaps even more difficult in ways not yet anticipated and I would much prefer that you be more prepared.”

“Yes, my father will view the proposed alliance as a personal effrontery.”  Thranduil said quietly as he frowned deeply, dropping his gaze to the contents of his goblet.

“ _Ay_ _ë Eru_!” (Oh God)  Galadriel gasped, covering her mouth with a trembling hand as she nearly dropped into a nearby chair.

“ _Hiril vuin_!” (My lady)  Elrond exclaimed in a hushed tone, turning quickly away from the window where they had been watching the three elves.  “What did you see?”  He pressed her, dropping to his knees before her as he grasped her hands, rubbing them gently.

“You were right _mellon nîn_.”  She whispered, her tone raspy as if she were exhausted.  “He has buried himself so deeply beneath the façade of Oropher’s making, still I was not prepared for the fear when I looked into his heart.”

“Fear?!  What did you see?”  Elrond asked again as she slowly turned her gaze to look at him.

“The alliance concerns him deeply.”  She told him, a slight frown creasing her brow as her gaze turned inward.  “He desires it yet he is terrified his father will blame him, believing it to be little more than a rebellious attempt to arrogate the crown from him.”

“We must...”

“He does not understand what he is feeling.”  She said quickly, holding up her hand as Elrond began to speak.  “His thoughts are conflicted as Háleärgiliäth’s _Vanyar_ blood stirs within him.  Even untrained, he senses the unrest and understands the shifting in the forest.”

“We cannot hide anything from him, through his gift he will sense the deception.”  She stated, blinking as she dropped the link to the young prince, turning toward Elrond.  “If Amdír truly desires an alliance with the prince, there can be no secrets otherwise Thranduil will never trust him.”

“Come.”  She stated, quickly rising to her feet.  “I think it is time I introduce myself to our young prince.”

“ _Now is not the time_.”  Her words echoed softly through Amdír’s mind as he turned toward the door to his quarters.

“Ah!”  Amdír exclaimed as he turned away from the young prince, a slight frown creasing his brow as he met Galadriel’s guarded expression.

“Prince Thranduil, I would like you to meet the Lady Galadriel.”  He stated far more calmly than he felt as the three elves rose to their feet.

“I am so pleased to finally meet you in person.”  She said quietly, her gaze studying him as she nearly floated toward him.  “When I heard you were visiting I was eager to return but alas I was delayed far longer than anticipated.  I have heard so much about you young one.”  She continued in her quiet, soothing voice as she grasped his hands gently in her own.

“ _Calm yourself_ _Lenwë, the time for this conversation is not now_.”  She spoke silently to him, her gaze never leaving Thranduils’ face.

“I am honored to meet you _hiril vuin_.” (My lady)  Thranduil said quietly, struggling to contain his nervousness as he nodded respectfully toward her.

Considered to be rather tall amongst his own people within the Woodland Realm, he felt uncomfortably small in her presence.  Standing a full head taller than himself, she had a commanding aura yet he felt a sense of calm that seemed to wrap itself around him like a warm comforting blanket.  The intensity of her gaze felt as though she looked directly into his very _fäë_ and he found it more than a little unsettling.

“Please, relax Thranduil.”  Galadriel chuckled, giving his hands a gentle squeeze.  “Sometimes my dear Amdír can be rather single minded regarding matters he deems of great importance.”  Her pale blue eyes softening as she glanced briefly toward the King.

“I think you have had quite enough to deal with today.”   She said quietly, her attention now fully on the prince.  “Please join us at our table tonight for the evening meal.  Perhaps later you will walk with me and we can talk more of different things.”  Her smile broadened as she studied him, touching his cheek comfortingly.

“I am rather out of sorts’ _hiril vuin_.” (My lady)  He replied quietly, allowing himself to laugh softly in an effort to disguise the slight crackling in his voice.  “While I am sincerely intrigued by the vast differences in our realms, I admit that I do find Lórinand to be quite charming to say the least.”

 “ _I am sure you do_.”  She whispered silently to herself, her smile reflecting a knowing aura as she noted the delicate blush that stained his cheeks

“With you your permission _hiril vuin_.” (My lady)  He stated with all the confidence he could muster as he held her gaze, his chin lifting slightly.  “I would like to take my leave of you to make myself more presentable.”  He added with a slight smile yet his eyes narrowed slightly as he studied her for a moment.

“Of course!”  Galadriel exclaimed happily as she squeezed his hands gently before releasing them, her smile broadened as he turned away from her.

“ _He is very quick to grasp even that which he does not yet fully understand_.”  Her voice was like a soft caress in the minds of the three elves behind her as she watched him stride purposefully across the platform toward his own quarters.

“There will be time later to speak of official matters.”  She stated as she turned back toward the others, her expression radiating her approval.  “For now let it suffice that our young prince now finds himself in a bit of a personal quandary.”  She added quietly, her expression a bit solemn as she lowered her tall frame elegantly into one of the chairs facing the bench.

“How so?”  Elrond asked, a slight frown etching his forehead as he recalled their conversation earlier.

“He has begun to question many things, yet the familial bond between him and his father remains strong.”  She commented almost as if speaking to herself.  “His gift is the strongest I have felt in a very long time.”  She continued as she leaned forward, accepting a goblet from Lenwë.  “The hand of _Ithuri_ has already touched him, she has claimed him, his destiny is now set.”

“That cannot be!”  Amdír exclaimed, his eyes widening in disbelief.  “The Fates can be cruel yet they have no hand in the destinies of the children of _Eru_ (God)!  You know this!”  He stated angrily, yet struggled to keep in tone low as he leaned forward to emphasize his words.

“The Fates have nothing to do with this.”  Galadriel stated, her tone a bit sharper than she had intended as her eyes narrowed toward Amdír.  “We are aware of only but a glimpse of what he has already endured, that cruelty alone is what has shaped him.  You know as well as I, his birthright alone places him as the vanguard as kingdoms rise and fall shifting the power among elves, dwarves, and men.”

“So what can we do to help him?”  Elrond asked as he studied her guarded expression.

“For now we wait and let him guide us.”  She sighed, leaning back a little more comfortably in the chair.  “He is now centuries into adulthood, yet he still thirsts for knowledge looks upon the world with an almost childlike innocence.”  She said quietly, turning toward Lenwë as he smiled broadly, nodding in agreement with her.

“I sensed the same within him when he first arrived.”  He stated, leaning forward to refill his goblet.  “Thankfully he is wise enough to think far more than he speaks.  His knowledge of the world beyond his fathers’ realm is severely limited concerning a great many things.”

“He seems to be growing more comfortable with himself.”  Elrond commented thoughtfully as he turned toward Amdír.  “When he first arrived his composure was more that of a puppet, acting according to a learned social structure.”  He paused to take a sip from his goblet.  “I dare say I have not witnessed one so young meet you as an equal _hiril vuin_.” (My lady)  He added, his eyes dancing with a bit of mischief as he turned his attention to Galadriel.

“He will need that inner strength if he is to survive what lies ahead for him.”  She sighed, yet a slight smile curled her lips as he met the healers’ dancing gray eyes.

“ _I will speak with him tonight in the glade where he goes sometimes at night_.”  Her soft mental voice echoing worriedly in the healers’ mind.  “ _His_ _mëâtrú is one that has been forged by pain, betrayal, and distrust_.”  She continued, a slight frown touched her brow as she turned toward the young princes’ quarters.

Closing the door behind him, Thranduil leaned heavily against it as if he were exhausted.  Still grasping the door handle, he closed his eyes and rested the back of his head against the hard surface.  In the privacy of his own quarters the brave façade crumbled, leaving him shaken and emotionally weakened.  He felt fear settling in his stomach, the intensity of Lady Galadriel’s gaze haunted him.  The mask of indifference he had so carefully constructed all those centuries ago had hidden nothing from her.

Confusion, anger, and resentment threatened to overwhelm him as he struggled to quiet his thoughts.  His throat constricted as those thoughts quickly blurred, only to be replaced by the more familiar pain of shame and humiliation.  Against his will, the image of his father now loomed ominously in his mind.  The usual cynical smile twisted his full lips as the cold ice blue eyes stared back at him.  Savoring as he always did, those moments when he had finally broken him.

“ _Damned you!_ ”  He cursed him in his mind, fighting against the hot tears that stung the backs of his eyes.  Sucking his lower lip into his mouth, he bit down hard as he fought against the painful memories that threatened to overtake him.

“ _You would use your own enemy to torment me!_ ”  His mind screamed in silent anguish as he tightened his grip on the door handle, hot tears of disgrace leaked from the corners of his tightly closed eyes.

“No!”  Galadriel exclaimed, her panicked tone strangled as if it were ripped from deep within her.  The wine goblet slipped from her grasp, clattering loudly against the wooden floor as she flung herself from the chair.  With a wave of her hand, she knocked the other elves back into their seats.

“ _Thranduil no!_ ”

Dazed as her pain filled cry rang clearly in their minds, the three elves gasped mutely as they watched her fleeing toward the princes’ quarters.

Shocked as her voice filled his mind as clearly as if she stood before him, Thranduil spun around to face the door as the tall Noldor burst into his quarters.  Stunned into silence, he stepped back as the tingling of her power wash over him.

“No!”  He choked out as she wrapped her arms around him, surrounding him with the comfort he had felt from her earlier.

“ _Quiet little one_.”  She soothed, tightening her arms around his struggling body.

“What do you want from me?!”  He demanded angrily, tears now streaked his cheeks as he tried to push her away from him.  “Leave me alone!”

“ _I am so sorry child_.”  She spoke softly in his mind, pressing his face into her neck as she held him tightly against her.  “I had hoped to earn your trust, but there is no time.”  She whispered in his ear, holding him until his struggles faded, leaving his limp body to rest against her.

“No time for what?”  He asked quietly, hating the sound of his voice cracking as he leaned back to look up at her.

“To earn your trust and prove to you that I am not your enemy.”  She told him softly as she looked deeply into his eyes, now slightly reddened in his struggle to hide his pain.  “Do not allow your fathers’ narrow mindedness to become your own.  You must learn to let go of the past.”  She continued, her tone becoming more firm as he met her gaze.

 “Haunting me like a dark shadow, the past is ever upon me.”  He stated, turning away from her as she loosened her embrace.  “I grow weary of this charade yet he is both my father and my King, I shall never be free of him.”

“Thranduil...”

“I beg you, spare me the humiliation of that which you already know.”  He stated, stiffening as he felt her hands clasping his shoulders yet he did not turn to toward her.

“You are stronger than you know.”  Galadriel stated quietly as she leaned forward slightly.  “You have a rare gift child, a power that has not yet been seen in Middle Earth.”  She whispered softly, smiling as he turned to stare at her in disbelief.

“Yes.”  She praised him, her smile broadening as she rested her gaze in his eyes.  “Your instincts serve you well.”  She continued as she reached forward, tucking a few stray strands of his golden tresses behind his ears.  “What you need to learn now cannot be found in any book.”

“Galion!”  Thranduil gasped, drawing a sharp breath as his eyes widened.  “He knew!”

“No child, he knew only that you needed him.”  She said quietly, trembling as his fear sent the painful memory of the night his father burst into his rooms flooding through her.  “Galion was drawn to you because of the bond you share, a bond that was forged centuries ago.  For different reasons, the anguish that called him to you that night is the same as that now calls me.”

“Tirithiáël...”

“He will stop at nothing to gain your fathers’ favor.”  Galadriel stated firmly as she watched him turn away from her, pacing the length of the braided rug before the tiny hearth.

“I do not understand why. But my father keeps him close.”  He stated almost absently, a deep frown forming on his brow.  “He is too cowardly to act forthright, his presence here means that he was here under my fathers’ orders to bring me back.”

“We fear he may have risked trying to take you by force.”  She informed him, studying his now closed expression.

“Is that why Amdír sent Anÿlläën and Faÿláën to warn me?”  He asked pointedly, his gaze hardening somewhat at he studied her in return.

“Amdír knows that you must return to your fathers’ halls.”  She stated, dropping her gaze for a moment.  “However, we would prefer it be your choice as to when.”  She added as she met his gaze once more.

“We?”  He stated more than asked, his brow rising slightly.

“If you return now you will forevermore be bound to him as you are now.”  Galadriel told him firmly.  “Listen to me.”  She continued, her voice softening as she approached him, taking his hands in her own.

Startled at her touch, he tried to pull free but her grasp was too strong.  He felt the tingling travel quickly along his skin as the room filled with a strange light.  Her gaze turned inward as she began to speak.  “Rooted to the ground, protected by the boughs.  Flowing yet not moving, bending toward the light, bearing the burden of darkness.  Bending but never breaking, he is the last of the elven kings.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End Notes:
> 
> Ithuri – The Spirit of the Forest in essence “Mother Nature”
> 
> Mëâtrú – a personal code as defined by the individuals’ ideas and beliefs based on their own ethics and morals 
> 
> Sorry for the lateness of this posting, thank you for reading! Comments are always welcome!


	16. Chapter 16

“Wha...”  Thranduil gasped, his eyes widening in fear as he backed away from her.  “What does...that mean?  What did you see!?”  He faltered, feeling his throat constrict painfully around his words.

Shaking beneath the waves of emotion, he felt his knees weaken as his heart and mind battled with deep feelings of guilt and fear.  Against his will, memories of the many nights he lay in his bed long after his father had left him sobbing as he clutched his pillow now plagued him.  The many nights he prayed for his father’s death to save him from the anguish, only to be tormented to his very _fēa_ (soul) by the guilt at having wished such a thing.

“ _He is not yet ready_.”  Celeborn’s deep voice whispered softly in her mind, cautioning her to tread lightly.

“The gift of Farsight shows us many things.”  She began quietly, studying him as she cautiously stepped closer to him.  “Like our dreams, what it shows can be misunderstood by feelings, hopes, and even memories and fears.”  She continued, her awareness of his ability to sense deception forced her to carefully choose her words.

“It will show some things that have already passed, for those are things that have already been set in motion.”  She told him softly, watching him.  “While there are some things that will pass, yet not as they are seen now for the future is not certain.” 

“My father...  Your touch...”  He stammered as he continued to back away from her.  “You saw my fathers’ death!”  He exclaimed, holding his hands up as if to ward her off.  “You really do hate him don’t you?!  All of you...”

“No!”  Galadriel shot back angrily, her eyes narrowing as she pushed harder against his mind.  “This is what I hate!”  She exclaimed as she flooded his thoughts with the same memories she had only glimpsed in his moment of weakness.

“You have suffered much beyond what anyone should ever have endured _pirá_ _neth_.”  (Little one)  Her voice cracked slightly as she stepped forward quickly, taking advantage of his momentary confusion to wrap her arms tightly around him.

“ _I fear your scars may run deeper than even I can heal_.”  She thought sadly, tears stinging the backs of her eyes as she supported his trembling body tightly against her own.

Clutching the soft folds of her robes, Thranduil buried his face in the warmth of her neck as he struggled with the tears that now soaked the collar of her robes.  Clinging to her words, spoken softly as if they fluttered on the fringes of a dream, so calming yet distant.  Shaking, he cringed at the memories flooding through his mind like a raging river threatening to carry him away.  The sobs he struggled so hard to hold back overtook him as the long buried feelings of shame and humiliation washed over him, drowning out everything beyond the feel of her strong yet comforting embrace.

“I did this!”  He choked, tears blurring his vision as he looked up at her.  “This is all my fault!”

“No child!”  Galadriel exclaimed, her embrace tightening as she sank to the floor pulling him with her.  “You bare no blame, none of this is of your own doing.”  She whispered soothingly in his ear, rocking him gently as a mother would comfort an injured child, her hand softly stroked his hair.

“ _Stop him!_ ”

Nearly flinging himself from the bench as her mental voice filled his mind, Lenwë ran toward the far end of the platform.

“No Galion!”  He hissed, snatching the smaller elf in his arms as he reached the top of the stairs.  “Galadriel is with him, he is safe.”  He added quickly, tightening his hold on the now violently struggling elf.

“Let go of me!”  Galion growled angrily, twisting his body in an attempt to kick the taller, stronger elf.

“Galion!”  Elrond exclaimed, glancing back toward the door of Thranduils’ rooms as he reached the stairs.  “I told you this would not be easy for him.  You must trust us in this.”

“She’s hurting him!”  Galion gasped as he continued to push against Lenwës’ unyielding hold on him.  “You did not tell me it would be like this!” 

“It is only the pain of his memories that you feel.”  The healer said quietly, shaking his head as he grasped Galions’ hands to keep him from swinging at Lenwë.

“Why?”  Galion choked out as he went limp, staring at the healer through a sheen of unshed tears.  “Why are you doing this to him?”

“He cannot confront what he refuses to see.”  Lenwë said quietly, only slightly loosening his hold on him.  “He must be willing to face the past if he is to build his own future.”

“How will he be able to do that?”  Galion stated more than asked, angrily pushing himself away from Lenwë the moment he released him.  “I know what he faces when he returns to the north.”  He spat bitterly, his eyes narrowed as he glanced between their faces.  “That monster...”

“Will do nothing.”  King Amdír stated, his tone hardened by his own rising anger.  “Please.”  He paused, briefly meeting the servants gaze as he waved his hand toward his own quarters.  “There is someone who wishes to speak with you.”

Squaring his shoulders, Galion ignored the strange glances shared between Lenwë and Elrond as he walked toward the kings’ personal quarters.  Emotionally exhausted at having discovered that Thranduil had managed to slip from the safety of Gilaiwë’s cottage without his knowledge, he struggled with a myriad of emotions that washed over him.  Desperation and uncertainty twisted in his gut as he had raced back from the Vales of the Nandor.

“I do not like any of this.”  He stated, folding his arms across his chest as he marched across the public sitting room to stare blankly out the window.  “I wish I had never agreed...”

“Galion...”  A calm tone both interrupting and irritating him at the same time.

“Do you not think he has suffered enough?!”  He exclaimed angrily, recognizing Lenwë’s voice he swung around to face him.  “This will do nothing but destroy him!  Can you not see this?!”  He hissed angrily, turning his darkening gaze toward the healer.

“No Galion, it will not.”

Visibly taken aback, Galion stared at the tall dark haired elf as he stepped from the shadows of the short hall leading to the sleeping rooms in the back of the kings’ quarters.  The soft silver gray eyes that gazed back at him seemed to lack their normal sparkle.  Small white teeth, chewed anxiously on his lower lip as long slender fingers wrung themselves nervously in front of him.  Gone it seemed was the mischievous yet confident and self-assured personal aid to the king.

“Go ahead Tóriôn.”  Amdír said quietly, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder.  “It will be alright.”

“I have never told my story to anyone but her.”  He began quietly, focusing his attention on the Silvan elf at the window.  “More than two millennia ago, when the Mage Wars first began, long before Sauron and the time of the Witch King of Angmar, I fled my home in the small forest just south of the Mountains of Emyn Uial in the west.”  He paused for a long moment, glancing toward Amdír.

“I was just a child.”  He began again, his voice softer yet clear as he turned to look passed the elf at the window, seeing only the dusky blue of an early evening sky.  “I did not know where I was going, only that I needed to get as far as away as possible.  Unskilled at being on my own, I was easily captured by the _N_ _ördyq_ _ûi_ who served Annûmëä, the dark necromancer of Carn Dûm.”

“Many elves from the surrounding forests and lakes were captured by them.”  He continued, a slight tremble rippled through his voice as he blinked back the tears that threatened.  “In the darkened caves of Carn Dûm, he took great pleasure in raping and torturing us, both _elleth_ and _ellyn_ and in time like others before me, I longed for death to take me.  But it was not to be for the dead do not suffer.  He fed on our pain, our anguish, draining our spirits to build and sustain his dark powers.”

“Tóriôn...”  Galion breathed out his name as he stepped toward him yet stopped as Amdír shook his head and slipped his arm reassuringly around the dark haired elfs’ shoulders.

“As the Fates would have it.”  Tóriôn began again, a slight curl touched one corner of his lips as he glanced briefly toward Amdír.  “Annûmëä made a fatal mistake, he fell in love with one of us.  One night the slave lured him in with false promises of love, pretending to willingly surrender to him.  Then, in the throes of passion when Annûmëä lowered his guard and was at his weakest, the slave struck him down, killing him instantly.  The region has long been abandoned, there are but few who travel there save the traders of Forodwaith who use it as pass through to trade with the peoples of Arnor.”

“There are some stories that are for the most part best left untold.”  He continued quietly, a soft smile touching his lips as he watched the strange play of expressions chase themselves across the Silvan elf’s face.  “I dare say none who were there ever speak of it.  Only a few of us remain as most of the survivors fled to _Tol Eress_ _ēa_ to heal.”   He said almost absently as he reached up to touch Amdír’s arm before stepping away from him.

“I like to think it was fate that brought me here instead.”  He said, stretching his arms outward as he walked toward Galion.  “Yes, it is painful to relive such things, but he will not do it alone.  She will help him to understand what happened to him, how to let it go.”

“Why are you telling me this?”  Galion asked softly, allowing himself to be pulled into Tóriôn’s strong embrace.

“Because you need to know the dark memories will never leave him, they are a part of his past, part of who his and who he will become.”  Tóriôn whispered quietly as he hugged him tightly.  “I can promise you this, with their help and time he will learn how to let go.  All you can do is be there for him.”

“I think it is best to leave them be for the time being.” Amdír said quietly, meeting Galions’ gaze as he stepped toward them.  “You should stay here with Tóriôn so you will be close by.”

“Come with me.”  He stated, turning toward his brother and Elrond as he walked toward the door. “Celeborn waits at the Vale of the Anduin.  There are things we need to discuss before he departs for the north.”  He added quietly as they left his quarters.

“You are sending him to speak with Oropher?!”  Elrond exclaimed, frowning slightly as they descended the winding stairs to the forest floor below.

“I have no choice.”  Amdír sighed heavily, clasping his hands behind his back.  “If I...”  He hesitated for a moment as they started down the path toward the vale.  “If we are to protect Thranduil, I must force Orophers’ hand in this treaty.”

“I do not understand?”  Lenwë stated more than asked, casting a curious glance toward his brother.

“I would have preferred to send Galadriel with him.  Unfortunately, Thranduil needs her more.”  Amdír said thoughtfully, his gaze wandering over the many brightly colored flowers scattered along the path.  “I believe her gifts would have provided us much in the way of insights when it comes to our northern neighbors.  Unfortunately, Oropher’s hatred for the Noldor leaves me no other choice than to send him with only a small accompaniment.  I do not wish to appear as a threat to him.”

“Even so, he will not be easily swayed.”  Elrond commented, watching Amdír as they walked.  “I fear his distrust of the Noldor runs deep.  While Celeborn himself is Sindar, his bond with Galadriel will not sit well with Oropher.”

“Until last night I would have agreed with you.”  Amdír told him, a slight smile brightening his normally stoic expression as he glanced between the two of them.  “Beyond the abuse of his son, I have also become aware of other secrets Oropher would prefer remain hidden.”

“It is not like you to interfere in such ways.”  Lenwë commented quietly, his expression solemn and somewhat guarded yet his pale blue eyes danced with mischief.

“We have both sensed the shifting in the north.”  Amdír said quietly, casting a glance toward his brother.  “Even _Adar_ (Father) has sensed it.  I fear we can no longer hide in the shadows as the world changes around us.  We have witnessed the strife amongst the dwarves of Khazad-dûm, Thráin has already led a great many of the dwarves north to Erebor.  The elves of the north are many, still even Oropher knows he cannot stand alone.”

“ _Oh you poor child_.”  Galadriel sighed heavily to herself as she wrung excess water from the cloth into a small bowl on the floor beside her.  “ _His perception is far too keen_.”  She shared her thoughts with Celeborn through their bond, drawing the cloth gently over the tear stained cheeks of the young prince.  “ _Even I did not see Oropher’s demise._ ”

“ _I feel your pain my love_.”  Celeborn tried to comfort her, sending his love through their shared bond.  “ _His fear is greater than his mistrust.  How is he?_ ”

“ _He is resting for now_.”  She replied, a slight crease marred her brow as she studied Thranduil’s sleeping face.  “ _He was so distraught I put him under a healing sleep_.”

“ _Stay with him for as long as he will allow it_.”  Celeborn cautioned her.  “ _I will depart before first light, I wish to complete this unpleasant task as quickly as possible.  I love you and I will return as quickly as I can._ ”

“ _Safe journey my love_.”  She smiled softly, turning her full attention back to the young prince who lay peacefully on the settee.

Clasping his hand gently in her own, Galadriel closed her eyes and rested her head on the soft cushion near him as her thoughts turned to Amdír.  It pained her greatly to see him so divided, the love he still held in his heart for Háleärgiliäth and now for her only child, a child that could so easily have been his own.  The Fates it would seem had dealt him a double edged sword for she knew he blamed himself for everything.  While nothing had been proven for certain at the time, she knew he had been aware of certain goings on in Doriath.  Heart sore at her father’s dismissal of his request for her hand, Amdír retreated to the east yet he never stopped loving her.

In recent years they had all felt the shifting of things in the north, yet she had sensed it was not merely the unrest amongst the elves.  There was a strange and dark undercurrent, it seemed as if the forest itself had grown restless.  Even the dwarves of Khazad-dûm had felt it, causing a huge rift amongst them as each house departed to different lands, establishing dwarven strongholds throughout Middle-Earth.

Suddenly aware of him, she raised her head to look at him.  Her attention immediately captured by the calm yet curious expression that gazed back at her from the depths of those strange but beautiful sapphire eyes.  Gone was the soft almost childlike expression induced by the healing sleep, in its place was a guarded yet not quite his normal stoic air of indifference.

“You were so distraught, I only meant...”

“I know what you did.”  Thranduil said quietly, slipping his hand free of her grasp as he pushed himself into a sitting position.  “I have experienced it with Healer Jôsidëáh, he prefers it over medicines when it comes to healing small children.”  He told her quietly, ignoring the slight heat that rose from beneath the collar of his tunic as he stared down at his hands.

“Thranduil.”  She said softly, placing her hand over his to stop him from fidgeting.  “Will you let us help you?”  She asked, squeezing his hands as if to emphasize her words and force him to look at her.

“I cannot help but feel your intentions are sincere _hîr vuin_.” (My lady)  He stated, keeping his tone quiet, fearing his voice would betray his pain.  “Yet to me it would feel far too much like pity and that I cannot withstand.”

“No child, pity is the last thing I would offer you.”  Galadriel told him, a warm smile spreading over her face as she lifted her hand, pressing a gentle finger on his lips.  “You are much stronger than you know.  Still you cannot continue to bear this burden alone.”

“I am not blind to my father’s mind.”  Thranduil stated firmly, his gaze intensifying he studied her.  “It was King Amdír’s choice to forego my father’s request for a marital arrangement that caused him to regret his decision to send me into exile.  I have no doubts Lord Tirithiáël would have returned me to my father’s halls in chains if he thought it was necessary.”

“Amdír would never have allowed that.”  Galadriel told him, her own stubbornness rising to match his own.  “There are consequences for your father’s acts against you.”

“And Amdír is not so foolish that he would start a war he cannot win!”  Thranduil exclaimed, his frown deepening as he watched her rise to her full height in front of him.

“Come with me.”  She stated as she extended her hand toward him, a soft smile curled her lips.  “There is someone I think you need to meet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authors Notes:
> 
> Tol Eressēa – Which translates from Quenya as “Lonely Island”, because it was originally located in the middle of the Belegaer, far from any other landmasses.
> 
> Nördyqûi – The name given to the children born of captive human women to Annûmëä, known as the necromancer of Carn Dûm during the latter days of the First Age.
> 
> As always thank you so much for reading!! Comments are always welcome!


	17. Chapter 17

“It is not my intention to offend, _hiril vuin_.”  (My lady) Thranduil said quietly as he clasped her hands, allowing her to assist him to his feet.  “Why...”  He hesitated for a moment, his frown replaced with a guarded sort of curiosity as he looked into her eyes.

“You have many questions _pen neth nîn_.” (My young one).  Galadriel told him, a soft smile brightening her face as she squeezed his hands reassuringly.

“I am not afraid to say that I do not understand.”  He said quietly, his voice breaking off as his frown returned.  “Nor admit that I am not comfortable with...”

“You must learn to trust your own mind and your own heart.”  She interrupted him as he paused to gather his thoughts.  “The most difficult part for you will be learning how to set aside that which you have been taught.”

“I know my own mind and heart _hiril vuin_.”  (My lady)  He stated more firmly, narrowing his eyes as he sought to read her expression.  “What I do not know is what it is you want from me.  I assure you, my _Adar_ (Father) pays little mind to my counsel.”  He added, unable to conceal the slight bitterness in his tone.

“One day you will return to your fathers’ halls.”  She replied quietly, meeting his darkening gaze without reservation.  “Until that day, I ask only that you use your time here wisely, to be open to what you can learn from others here.  What you choose to accept is up to you.”  She told him, smiling to herself as she watched the strange play of emotions swirl within the depths of his eyes.

“ _He is wise enough to think far more than he speaks_.”  Lenwës’ earlier words drifted through her mind as she studied him.  “The answers you seek are not so easily explained.  There are some things you must see and experience for yourself before you can even begin to understand them.”

“You are right, yet you are wrong in some ways.”  Thranduil began, pausing to clear his throat as he slipped his hands free of her gentle grasp.  “Trust is something that must be earned yes, but it is also not one sided, you need to know that I do not share my fathers’ views about a great many things.”  He said, his voice was thoughtful and calm as he stepped away from her toward one of the open windows.

“When I first arrived here.”  He continued as he stared up into the darkening velvet sky, his gaze lingering on the spray of glimmering stars.  “I felt out of sorts if you will, as if the world...”  He paused as he turned to look at her, his eyes narrowing questioningly.  “More pointedly, I felt my world shifting.  I cannot say that trust is as much of a concern to me at the moment as my need to understand why.”

“Ah.”  Galadriel nearly chuckled, noting the strange smirk the young prince barely concealed behind his questioning gaze.  “In order to believe what I tell you, you will have to trust me.”  She told him, her tone slightly challenging as a soft smile curled her lips.

“You want to know why you are here, now, in this place.”  She stated more than asked, her soft blue eyes sparkling in approval of the sudden change in his demeanor.  “I have not been privy to all that it entails and can tell you only that it was not your fathers’ decision.  The Fates have now turned their eyes toward you, things have now been set motion that will bring about changes in more worlds than your own.  What changes are felt within the Woodland Realm are up to you.”

“My father is not one easily dissuaded once his mind is set.”  Thranduil stated, his questioning expression fading to one reflecting concern accentuated by a deep frown.  “Forcing his hand in any matter is never a wise decision, there are always consequences.”

“True.”  Galadriel agreed, nodding as she walked toward him.  “We all have secrets Thranduil, your _Adar_ (Father) is no different.”   She continued quietly, glancing at him briefly before she turned to the window, her gaze followed his own toward the stars.

“Still, he is shortsighted in his misgivings.”  She paused, glancing at him for a moment.  Unsure if the young prince was ready for the truth, yet she knew the shifting had begun and there was no way of knowing who much time was left.

“The Kinslaying of Alqualondē was only the beginning of the dissention among the Calaquendi, those who later became known as Tareldar.”  She began quietly, turning her gaze back toward the stars.  “The elves who survived realized the old ways were now broken, they witnessed new alliances being formed, altering the destinies of more than just the Eldar.  Rumors arose, things that have now become truth to many, further dividing the Eldar not just the clans but as a people.  You are wondering what this has to do with you and why now.”  She said quietly as she turned toward him, meeting his darkening gaze yet his thoughts were shielded and strangely unknown to her.

“Once thought to be above the petty differences of dwarves and man, the Kinslaying in Doriath and the death of King Dior proved to be the final downfall for many.”  She said quietly in the face of his stoney silence.  “Splintered once more, the Teleri, once the largest and greatest of the Eldar were divided, no longer one, for pride and greed now festered in the hearts of some.  For a time the Noldor and Sindar dwelt peacefully together in Lindon, before the fall of Beleriand.  Yet, discontent found its way into the hearts of some, unwilling to travel to Aman with the others who had lost the heart for Middle Earth.  The Noldor traveled here and to Lorien, some Sindar felt the call of the great forests that lay beyond the Misty Mountains in the east, your _Adar_ (Father) left with them, fleeing his past.”

“And you _hiril vuin_ (my lady), what is it that fills your heart.”  Thranduil asked, studying her curiously, his gaze revealing nothing of his thoughts.

“I harbor no ill will toward Oropher if that is what you think.”  Galadriel replied, a slight smile curled her lips.  “The fate of others is not in my hands, nor would I choose to have it such.”  She stated, her eyes narrowing slightly.  “You are not alone in your secrets _mellon nîn (my friend)_ but unlike those you have kept buried for many long centuries, some secrets are such that cannot remain hidden.  The Fates have a way of bringing them to light.  All things turn with the seasons, it is the cycle of life and as Eldar, we are uniquely bound to it.”

“I have no memory of my life before...”  Thranduil began, his voice failing him as he turned away from her to gaze once more at the spray of starlight against the velvet night sky.  “My _Adar_ (Father) never speaks of my mother, there are no paintings within his halls, no writings within his libraries, there is nothing.  It is as if he has banished even her memory from me.”  He spoke quietly, almost to himself as he stood there at the window.

“I lived in Doriath for a brief time and I knew of your father, mostly from others so I paid little mind to it for I had seen none of it for myself.  However, I came to learn other things that have since proven themselves to be truth and will say only that Oropher may be many things but being foolish does not make one a fool.”  She continued quietly as she turned her gaze out the window toward the stars.  “His decision to send you here was the price demanded of him to silence those who know not only of his transgressions in the past but of what he has done to you.”

“Aldalómë...”  Thranduil whispered, his throat constricting around his words as he stared at her in disbelief.  He felt his heart pounding in his chest as his thoughts turned quickly to the events of the last night he had seen him.

“No, your young lover played no part in this.”  She told him, touching his cheek reassuringly as she turned to face him.  “He is as innocent in this as are you.  What happened was nothing more than a misfortunate occurrence.  One that Oropher used to his own ends, for no reason other than to cause you pain.”

“Why?”  He asked, dropping his gaze as he struggled with the memory of his fathers’ rage and the pain that followed.

“He was angry, yet he knew it would end one day.”  She stated as she lifted his chin, forcing him to meet her gaze.  “You were the only thing in his world that he truly controlled, and he was not ready to let you go.  He is your _Adar_ (Father) and nothing will ever change that.  It is now only the blood of a son that still binds you to him.”  She said softly, feeling saddened as she looked into his eyes, seeing the sheen of tears she knew he would not let fall.

“Who...”  The word felt torn from his throat as he dropped his gaze from her knowing eyes, the heat of his humiliation crept from beneath the collar of his tunic.

“That no longer matters, your secret is safe _pen neth_.” (Young one).  She whispered softly as she leaned forward, kissing his forehead softly.  “Now come, there is someone who has been waiting a long time to meet you.”  She told him, her eyes smiling as she took his hands in her own.

Offering no resistance, Thranduil followed her into the darkness that now shrouded the platform between his own quarters and those of King Amdír.  Lost in the chaos of his thoughts, the few faces that passed them as they descended the stairs, making their way toward the forest were blurred and unrecognizable to him.  So too were the fleeting faces that haunted his mind, vague memories of those knowing eyes that looked at him with what felt like pity. 

“ _The price demanded of him to silence those who know not only of his transgressions in the past but of what he has done to you_.”  Her earlier words plagued him as he struggled to recall the faces of those who had most assuredly at least sensed if not knew of his torment. 

“ _You were the only thing in his world that he truly controlled_.”   Her words tormented him as he clung to her hand, following her farther and farther into the depths of the now dark forest. 

Anguish and guilt now twisted painfully in the pit of his stomach as the realization washed over him.  Lies, all of it, everything his father had ever told him had been nothing but lies.  Feelings, long buried crept into his thoughts, like ephemeral bits and pieces of a dream with many missing pieces lingering on the edges of his thoughts he so desperately tried to recall.  Words and events that somehow did not feel right to him then, yet he could not understand why.

The sound of rustling leaves drew his attention toward the swaying boughs of the tall Vellanräé trees yet he felt no wind on his skin, not even a subtle breeze stirred the air as they entered the small grove.  A slight frown creased his brow as he glanced cautiously around him, the tiny purple blooms of the _Iridaceae_ swayed and danced wildly as if brushed by the passing touch of a gentle hand.  Tiny white _Iphêíon_ blossoms drifted downward from the moss covered branches above them, floating as if briefly held by hands he could not see.

“Shh.”  Galadriel hushed him as he turned toward her, eyes wide and mouth opening to speak.  A slight smile curled her lips as she felt the myriad of emotions emanating from his gaze.  “Do not be afraid, be still and listen.”  She whispered as she slowly backed away from him, into the fringes of the shadows.

“ _Thranduil_ _Mir'nwēoben_...”

Stiffening, Thranduil turned away from her as a whispered voice filtered softly through his mind like a gentle caress.  Trembling slightly as he glanced quickly around himself, feeling his skin prickle as strange beams of an eerie golden light filtered down through the dense canopy above them.  A soft gasp caught in his throat, watching in awe as a large dark winged shape floated silently toward him.  He felt a warm breeze as its massive wings thrashed silently, buffeting him softly as its gentle glide slowed until it landed a short distance from him. 

Staring in wonder, his eyes widened as he recognized the formidable creature.  Believed to have vanished long ago, the enormous feathered being before him had not been heard of since the beginning of the First Age.  Larger than the average wood elf, the _Sérâphińä_ stood there in silence as the peculiar glow illuminated the small grove, the large dark eyes were piercing and sparkled with intelligence as it watched him.

Stiffening, Thranduil watched in silence as it cocked its head slightly, looking at him curiously as it took a cautious step toward him.  The creature was as beautiful as it was gruesome with its protruding crown of soft gray feathers, penetrating gaze and curved predatory beak.  His gaze dropped briefly to the enormous talons that could easily have gripped his body if it chose, yet he felt no threat from it.

“ _You have nothing to fear from me little one_.”  The now distinctively female voice whispered softly in his mind.  “ _I sensed your fēa long ago when you first entered my forest_.”  The voice continued as the creature began to shimmer with a strange yet intense light, forcing him to turn away and close his eyes for a moment.  Looking back as the light faded, he gasped softly as his gaze fell upon the most beautiful creature he had ever seen.  She was neither elf nor human yet he felt drawn to her as he had never felt toward another being.

Taller than the _Sérâphińä_ , he was captivated by her beauty as she moved silently toward him.  A delicate smile curled her full lips, the deep forest green gown accentuated her creamy pale skin.  Her large green eyes sparkled like polished emeralds, studying him as she approached him.  Her long thick hair cascaded over her shoulders, gleamed like highly polished copper in the strange light that seemed to emanate from her.

“ _Too long I have waited to set my eyes upon the one whose fēa called unto me in the darkness of the night_.”  The voice he now understood as hers moved across his mind like a gentle caress.  “ _The one who shall be hence forth bound unto me and none other_.”

“Shh.”  She smiled softly as she stepped up to him, her silken finger touched his lips as he tried to speak.  “As with all things, this too you will understand in due time.”

“Who...”  The word slipped from his lips like a whisper as he stared at her.  The sound of her voice was unlike any other he ever heard, deep yet soft, like gently plucked harp strings.

“ _Pirá neth nîn, av-'osto_.”  (My little one, don’t be afraid)  The musical voice drifted through his mind as she pulled him into her strong embrace.  “ _Who I am is of no matter_ _harma-meleth_.”  She whispered, her soft sweet breath lingered on his lips as she leaned even closer to him, her large emerald eyes continued to gaze deeply into his own.

“It is through the darkness of your dreams that I have seen the light in your heart.”  She told him softly, her voice barely above a whisper as her lips brushed his forehead.  “I see through your eyes, you still hold the light of hope, I see too the gathering clouds of the coming storm, of things you do not understand yet know they will come to pass.  For such is the way of those who seek the balance of all things.”

“ _Saes_...” (Please)  Thranduil whispered, dropping his eyes from the sheer intensity of her gaze.

“The day will come when the weight of a crown rests upon your head _pirá_ _neth_ (little one) and you will be bound to it by an oath.”  She stated, her voice growing deeper and stronger as she spoke, no longer the musical soft whisper.  “But it is an oath that shall forever bow before you as _Díönâch Tāigh Mŏr_ , the _Ańgön d'ánimes_.  For I bind thee to me and to all that _Eru_ has given as mine from this day hence shall serve you as they would me.”

~*~     ~*~     ~*~     ~*~     ~*~     ~*~

Reining their mounts to a halt, Celeborn looked toward the west.  The jagged outline of the peaks of the Misty Mountains were now little more than blur against the darkened sky.  They had made good time, the southern edge of the Woodland Realm was still a good forty miles distance and the horses needed to rest.

“ _Hîr vuin_?” (My Lord)  Rasĭlús inquired softly as he nudged his mount closer.

“We will rest here for the night.”  Celeborn stated as he turned slightly, glancing briefly to the north.  “For as much as Oropher has agreed to this meeting, I for one am not prepared to enter his realm under the cover of darkness.”

Nodding as Rasĭlús glanced at them, Tŝutöme and Arēmán exchanged glances of their own as they dismounted and set about the task of making a small camp.  They had sensed the lords’ reluctance to push the mounts, the distance was not so great that they could not have reached Amon Lanc before true night fall.

“We are not here as emissaries of Lorien or Lórinand.”  Rasĭlús said quietly as he dismounted.  “He awaits word from Lady Galadriel.”  He told them, glancing over his shoulder as Celeborn dismounted and walked a good distance away from them.

“I do not understand.”  Arēmán said quietly, casting a quick glance at the lord as he disappeared into the darkness.  “Since when do we hesitate to enter the realm of our kinsmen?  What is it that he fears?”  He asked, turning his frown toward Rasĭlús.

“It is not fear that stirs his caution.”  Rasĭlús replied as he loosened the girth on his saddle and patted the strong neck of his mount.  “He has been sent as an emissary of Prince Thranduil, to speak on his behalf regarding a proposed alliance between the three of them.”

“Three?”  Tŝutöme asked, a deep frown creasing his brow as he joined them.

“King Amdír has made it known that he will consider King Oropher’s desire for an alliance with the Woodland Realm, yet he will not do so without the Lord and Lady of Lorien.”  Rasĭlús stated as he unfastened his pack from the saddle.

“I do not like this.”  Arēmán stated, scrubbing his hand across his face as he glanced back to where Celeborn had disappeared into the darkness.  “King Oropher’s disdain for the Noldor is no secret.”

“He will accept what is offered or suffer the consequences.”  Rasĭlús said quietly, his gaze following that of Arēmán.

“ _Are you alright_?!”  Celeborn exclaimed, stiffening as he felt her reaching out to him.  Her spirit felt tired and drained as she touched his mind.

“ _I am fine my love_.”  Galadriel’s voice all but whispered back to him.

“ _And Thranduil_?”  He asked, his concern for both of them growing as he pulled her spirit to him yet felt nothing of the young prince.

“ _He sleeps for now_.”  Her mental voice caressed his mind and heart softly.  “ _It is done, he is lost to us_.”

“ _What do you mean lost to us_?!”  Celeborn questioned her, his tone made sharp in his concern for them both.

“ _Had I not witnessed it with my own eyes I might not have believed it_.”  Galadriel stated softly, yet he could feel her smile.  “ _She has taken him as her own, he is the one_.”

“ _Taken him_?”  He asked, turning his gaze toward the darkened line of the forest edge to the north.  “ _But we have only just sensed the shift_.”  He whispered back to her, yet it was more to himself.

“ _What do you mean, taken him_?”  He asked, his tone now heavy with a different concern as he thought of the task ahead of him.

“ _The_ _Káphžiel answer to Eru alone_.”  Galadriel’s voice felt more like a heavy sigh as they clung to each other through their bond.  “ _It has only just begun, in time she will come again to claim him.  I can feel it, the forest has never felt so alive.  He has been touched by her, appointed as Guardian of the Woodland, the Shepherd of Souls and they have already accepted him_.”

“ _Let us only hope that time is not so close upon us my love_.”  His voice softened as he held her tightly in his mind.  “ _I dearly wish for our eyes to look upon the faces of our own children and grandchildren one day._ ”

~*~     ~*~     ~*~     ~*~     ~*~     ~*~

Authors Notes:

_Fēa_ – Soul

_Sérâphińä_ – The largest feathered bird in Middle-Earth [Inspired by the American Harpy Eagle]

_Mir'nwēoben_ – Child, Jewel of my Heart – a name given to him by _Ithuri_   

_Harma-meleth_ – keeper of his/her heart

_Ańgön d'ánimes_ – Shepherd of Souls

_Díönâch Tāigh Mŏr_ – Guardian of the Woodlands

_Káphžiel_ – First Order of the Elven Gods

 

As always, thank you so much for reading this!  I’m sorry my updates are not as timely as they used to be, but I can promise I will not abandon this story!  This is only the first book in what is currently planned as a series of four books.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authors Notes:
> 
> Fēa – Soul   
> Sérâphińä – The largest feathered bird in Middle-Earth [Inspired by the American Harpy Eagle]  
> Mir'nwēoben – Child, Jewel of my Heart – a name given to him by Ithuri   
> Harma-meleth – keeper of his/her heart  
> Ańgön d'ánimes – Shepherd of Souls  
> Díönâch Tāigh Mŏr – Guardian of the Woodlands  
> Káphžiel – First Order of the Elven Gods
> 
> As always, thank you so much for reading this! I’m sorry my updates are not as timely as they used to be, but I can promise I will not abandon this story! This is only the first book in what is currently planned as a series of four books.


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